Quotes by Lisa Ann Sandell

I shuffle along, letting the current pull me, and i have the sense that I am like a rat caught in a maze of tunnels, moving endlessly toward some promise of...of what? Light? Life? Cheese?

When I reach the end of one row, I continue straight on away from the barn and the farm and the road. I walk until I come to a pile of hay bales and plop myself down. The sun is bright and the air is sharp. In the distance I hear the lowing of cows. Its so peaceful here.Merry Christmas, I whisper to myself. Merry Christmas, Nate.

But, I believe, I continue, I know what true love is - or what it should be. What should it be? Tristan asks, his voice soft now. It should be a friendship and truly knowing who a person is, knowing his flaws and hopes and strengths and fears, knowing all of it. And admiring and caring for - loving the person because of those things.

I wish I could say we all lived happily ever after. I cant. But I can say we lived. Our love for Nate lives, and hes left us this piece of himself in his art; it was his gift to us. We know him through his art, and I can take comfort in that. I guess the thing about high school is, its the moment when you start to cross from a being a kid to being an adult, and this journey to know yourself begins. Nates journey ended to early, and I thought I had to run away to some far-off land to start mine. But, for now, it seems to me that I have enough to explore right here. Theres a whole continent to discover in myself, and I know that its love - love for my parents, my friends, my brother, and my art - that will guide me. Love will be my map.

They say no land remains to be discovered, no continent is left unexplored. But the whole world is out there, waiting, just waiting for me. I want to do things-- I want to walk the rain-soaked streets of London, and drink mint tea in Casablanca. I want to wander the wastelands of the Gobi desert and see a yak. I think my lifes ambition is to see a yak. I want to bargain for trinkets in an Arab market in some distant, dusty land. Theres so much. But, most of all, I want to do things that will mean something.

Oh my gosh, he smells good, like some exotic but comforting spice, nutmeg or cardamom. Slowly Damian lowers his head to mine and I think my chest might explode, my heart is tap-dancing so qui

So, whats up with you and Damian? Helena

Somewhere, things must be beautiful and vivid. Somewhere else, life has to be beautiful and vivid and rich. Not like this muted palette -a pale blue bedroom, washed out sunny sky, dull green yellow brown of the fields. Here, I know ever twist of every road, every blade of grass, every face in this town, and I am suffocating.

I do not tell her about how much I look forward to going to the Wright barn. How those couple of hours in his studio feel like an escape, a refuge. Nor do I tell Rachel that I think Damian has the most beautiful hands Ive ever seen, that he walks like a cat, that he has the clearest eyes, which seem able to see absolutely everything about me. That he seems to be the loneliest person Ive ever met, and it breaks my heart. All of these things feel private. Precious. And I dont want to share them with Rachel. Not yet, anyway.