Quotes by Sarah Addison Allen

Did you get rid of that sweater like I asked?Yes, Mother, Josey said.I wasnt trying to be mean the other day. It just doesnt look good on you.Yes, Mother, Josey said.The truth was, that sweater, that color, looked good on her daughter. And every time she wore it, it hinted at something that scared Margaret.Josey was growing into her beauty.Margaret watched Josey leave.She used to be a beautiful woman, the most beautiful woman around.She brought out the photo again.But that was forever ago.

When you have to do something, you have to do it. Putting it off only makes it worse. Believe me, I know.

When Josey woke up and saw the feathery frost on her windowpane, she smiled. Finally, it was cold enough to wear long coats and tights. It was cold enough for scarves and shirts worn in layers, like camouflage. It was cold enough for her lucky red cardigan, which she swore had a power of its own. She loved this time of year. Summer was tedious with the light dresses she pretended to be comfortable in while secretly sure she looked like a loaf of white bread wearing a belt. The cold was such a relief.

She did know that its remarkably easy to fall in love with someone who is already in love with you. Its a little like falling in love with yourself.

...everyone knows that road, the one leading out of town into a deep green expanse of pastures and old farmhouses, which at first makes it seem like youre entering a fairy tale, something sweet and old fashioned and lost in time. But, like all fairy tales, the beginning is always beautiful, a ruse to draw you into something you arent anticipating.

The outside world might have finally turned into autumn, but inside the Waverley house it still smelled of summer. It was lemon verbena day, so the house was filled with a sweet-tart that conjured images of picnic blankets and white clouds like true-love hearts.

Those stories were the sound track of my summer with you.

Summer was a lady who didnt give up her spotlight easily.

There was a sense of tightness in the room now, filling the space. Attraction was like that. It filled. It poured into you like batter into a pan, sticking to the sides.

Eby wanted to say so much to her. She wanted to say that waking up is the most important part of grieving, that so many women in their family failed to do it, and she was proud of Kate for fighting her way back. But Eby didnt say anything. She could fix a lot of things, but family wasnt one of them. It was one of the hardest things shed ever had to come to terms with.

It was hard not to feel sorry for a life that had no purpose of its own... His only purpose, it seemed, was to come into her mothers life in order to send her home. For that, Bay decided, she would be grateful.For the rest, though, she wondered if she would ever be able to forgive him. She hoped she wouldnt remember him long enough to find out.

It looked like the world was covered in a cobbler crust of brown sugar and cinnamon.

I was just telling Claire about a guy I met in bread class. I hate him, but he could be my soul mate.

On the day the tree bloomed in the fall, when its white apple blossoms fell and covered the ground like snow, it was tradition for the Waverleys to gather in the garden like survivors of some great catastrophe, hugging one another, laughing as they touched faces and arms, making sure they were all okay, grateful to have gotten through it.

Some of Bays fondest memories were of lying under the apple tree in the summer while Claire gardened and the apple tree tossed apples at her like a dog trying to coax its owner into playing catch.

Once hed asked, Dont you want to read? There are hundreds of books in the sitting room.She had laughed and said, Ive read them all. I want to remember them the way they were. If I read them now, the endings will have changed.

Who I am, what I am, is the culmination of a lifetime of reading, a lifetime of stories. And there are still so many more books to read. Im a work in progress.

My favorite books are the ones that make me smile for hours after reading them. I want that for my readers, for the sweetness to linger. Sort of like chocolate, but without the calories.

“If a man has so much heat he burns your skin when he touches you, hes the devil. Run away”

“Coffee, shed discovered, was tied to all sorts of memories, different for each person. Sunday mornings, friendly get-togethers, a favorite grandfather long since gone, the AA meeting that saved their life. Coffee meant something to people. Most found their lives were miserable without it. Coffee was a lot like love that way. And because Rachel believed in love, she believed in coffee, too.”