Sarah Dessen Quotes

I hate you." I love you." You're a freak, you know that? Everyone says so. They always have." I'm trying not to be.

I hate the way you talk to me, and the way you cut your hair. I hate the way you drive my car. I hate it when you stare. I hate your big dumb combat boots, and the way you read my mind. I hate you so much it makes me sick; it even makes me rhyme. I hate it, I hate the way you're always right. I hate it when you lie. I hate it when you make me laugh, even worse when you make me cry. I hate it when you're not around, and the fact that you didn't call. But mostly I hate the way I don't hate you. Not even close, not even a little bit, not even at all.

I've always been at war with myself, for right or wrong.

I'm optimistic yet disillusioned, hopeful yet frustrated.

There is another man within me that's angry with me.

I hate you most because you attract, but are not strong enough to pull me to you.

Then it is also in my heart to be worthy of your hate.

The wolf in him demanded he kick (the door) down and claim her. The man in him just wanted to hold her close and protect her. He’d never been so torn. So confused. So damned horny!

I am gay on the outside, especially among my own folk (I count Poles my own); but inside something gnaws at me; some presentiment, anxiety, dreams - or sleeplessness - melancholy, indifference - desire for life, and the next instant, desire for death; some kind of sweet peace, some kind of numbness, absent-mindedness.

I don't hate myself, as a general rule. I'd say the best way to describe it is that I have moments of self-loathing at fairly regular intervals.

I too was frightened the first time I felt I hated my father. I felt like a criminal. But could I help it what was inside of me? I had to feel what I felt even if it killed me.

Hatred is love frustrated.

I'm horrified most of the time. I wish it was more complicated, but at the same time, each time I try to complicate it I hate it because I hate the idea of writing to impress.

I think my work comes out of both an intense desire for connection and what it means to feel isolated. There's always going to be a kind of tidal movement back and forth between the two.

it was odd, he thought, that a man could hate himself as though he were someone else.

I grieve and dare not show my discontent, I love and yet am forced to seem to hate, I do, yet dare not say I ever meant, I seem stark mute but inwardly do prate. I am and not, I freeze and yet am burned, Since from myself another self I turned. My care is like my shadow in the sun, Follows me flying, flies when I pursue it, Stands and lies by me, doth what I have done.

I'm weak cause I believe you and I'm mad because I love.

Hatred makes me energetic, but confused.

I was guilty and irritated and full of love and pain. I wanted to kick him and I wanted to take him in my arms.

You can hide beneath the covers and study your pain, make crosses from your lovers, throw roses in the rain. Waste your summer praying in vain, for a savior to rise from these streets.

For all his pain, he longed to see the author of it. Although he hated Margaret at times, when he thought of that gentle familiar attitude and all the attendant circumstances, he had a restless desire to renew her picture in his mind - a longing for the very atmosphere she breathed. He was in the Charybdis of passion, and must perforce circle and circle ever nearer round the fatal centre.

I want to hate you, but I can’t even stay mad at you. (Jericho) You know, I think you’re more in need of lessons on how to seduce than I am. Why don’t you call me fat and ugly while you’re at it? (Delphine)

Oh, I have loved him too much to feel no hate for him.

So this is what I am Pondering his eyes that could not Conceive that I was a creature to run from I who have always believed too much in words