Top 280 Sarah Addison Allen Quotes (2024 Update)
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251. “Stories aren’t fiction. Stories are fabric. They’re the white sheets we drape over our ghosts so we can see them. – ROSCOE AVANGER, Sweet Mallow.”

— Sarah Addison Allen

252. “Trade Street was still like a fairy tale at night, with its old-fashioned streetlamps shining like lemon lollipops in front of the candy-colored businesses.”

— Sarah Addison Allen

253. “I should let people in. If they leave, they leave. If I break, I break. It happens to everyone. Right?”

— Sarah Addison Allen

254. “Jack seemed kind. He was craggy and athletic, with lines like parentheses around his mouth, as if everything he wanted to say was an afterthought.”

— Sarah Addison Allen

255. “Eby knew all too well that there was a fine line when it came to grief. If you ignore it, it goes away, but then it always comes back when you least expect it. If you let it stay, if you make a place for it in your life, it gets too comfortable and it never leaves. It was best to treat grief like a guest. You acknowledge it, you cater to it, then you send it on its way.”

— Sarah Addison Allen

256. “If the people around you don’t love or accept you just as you are, find new people. They’re out there.”

— Sarah Addison Allen

257. “So Zoey understood that mothering was in the details you never saw. And the lack of it was the things you always noticed.”

— Sarah Addison Allen

258. “A house isn’t a real house without a woman in it.”

— Sarah Addison Allen

259. “Does it ever feel to you like the best things go away too fast, and the worst things never, ever leave you alone?”

— Sarah Addison Allen

260. “She had drawn intricate patterns around the edges of the paper. Heart-shaped petals formed into flowers, and paisley curlicues formed into leaves, all of which connected to look like lace. It was similar to the designs he’d seen decorating Charlotte’s skin over the years. He opened the box and lifted out a glass ball. He held it up and saw tiny glass threads inside that reminded him of strings of batter falling from a spoon.”

— Sarah Addison Allen

261. “It was an odd feeling, when she really thought about it, not having anyone in the world who knew everything about you and loved you anyway.”

— Sarah Addison Allen

262. “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.”

— Sarah Addison Allen

263. “The girl was beautiful, her skin like fresh cream and her long hair so dark it seemed to suck the color out of everything it surrounded. She was small. French women all seemed to be small-boned bird creatures, delicate in a way Eby could never be.”

— Sarah Addison Allen

264. “When your cup is empty, you do not mourn what is gone.”

— Sarah Addison Allen

265. “She wanted a life not full of things, but stories, so many stories that, if they’d had weight and heft, they wouldn’t have fit into a thousand suitcases.”

— Sarah Addison Allen

266. “In the inky stillness of the next morning, Lisette woke up and dressed quietly in the silks her elderly mother still sent her from Paris – cool slippery things that made her feel like she was covering herself with fresh air.”

— Sarah Addison Allen

267. “Whether she knew it or not, she needed someone who believed in her, not everything else in this crazy house.”

— Sarah Addison Allen

268. “Paxton walked over to the box and opened it, still feeling a little of that thrill she used to have at the thought of party dresses, the fantasy of it all. She smiled when she saw the shimmering pink material, the sparkling jewels at the neckline.”

— Sarah Addison Allen

269. “Children, don’t hold on to old love so hard you forget to live. Old love isn’t the only love you’ll ever have. And I can tell you from this side that it never really goes away, anyway. So let go. Whatever you’re holding on to, let go.”

— Sarah Addison Allen

270. “A couple came out of the house after visiting, and they watched Claire quietly build tiny log cabins with twigs. “She’s a Waverley, all right,” the woman said. “In her own world.” Claire didn’t look up, didn’t say a word, but she grabbed the grass before her body floated up.”

— Sarah Addison Allen

271. “We keep all our best secrets in our bedrooms, don’t we?”

— Sarah Addison Allen

272. “Her color was high and her brown eyes were shining. Her gorgeous red hair was a thick mass of curls that fell down her back. She looked like a painting, fragile, caught in a moment she couldn’t get out of.”

— Sarah Addison Allen

273. “There was so much happiness in the world. It was everywhere. It was free. Eby never understood why some people, people like her family, simply refused to take it.”

— Sarah Addison Allen

274. “She bought a plume of blue cotton candy before they left the food booths, and she picked at it while they headed down the row of booths occupied by residents of Bald Slope who had spent all summer making walnut salad bowls and jars of pickled watermelon rind to sell at the festival. Snow flurries began to fall and they swirled around people’s legs like house cats. It was magical, this snowglobe world.”

— Sarah Addison Allen

275. “They were never interested in how I made my food, or the stories behind how I learned. Like how my mama would sing to her gravy to make it thicken, or how she showed me that bacon fat would make butter taste like a heaven no one had ever dreamed of. Or how cornmeal was better than flour because it had weight, and having weight is how you know your worth, so don’t let anyone tell you different.”

— Sarah Addison Allen

276. “This was an adventure. She was alive and awake and in charge, and Devin needed to see that. A kaleidoscope of landscapes passed like a slide show- farmland, sandy pine barrens, cypress ponds. This is what Kate’s mother had referred to as the “Wet South, as they’d made their way to Lost Lake the last time. She’d made it sound unexplored and exotic, something untoward and almost fearful.”

— Sarah Addison Allen

277. “Zoey had later found a few of her mother’s things mistakingly tangled in her own – a pair of lavender-colored leather gloves, a twisted and knotted gold bracelet, and a tube of saucy red lipstick, the color of which was called Bye Bye Birdie.”

— Sarah Addison Allen

278. “She was wearing blue jeans and a dark blue peasant blouse, the ties of the neck open. She looked so beautiful and soft, with her big brown eyes and her light brown hair shining in the afternoon light. He couldn’t see the pink streak, and he had an incredible urge to find it.”

— Sarah Addison Allen

279. “There were some things that hadn’t changed about Sydney, like her light-brown hair that had just enough natural curl to make it look like waves of caramel icing on a cake. And her beautiful lightly tanned skin. And the freckles across her nose. She’d lost weight but still had a stunning figure, petite in a way that always made Claire, who was four inches taller, feel heavy and clumsy.”

— Sarah Addison Allen

280. “But she taught me food was really about storytelling. It was about creating something good, and then giving it away.”

— Sarah Addison Allen

281. “Don’t hold on to old love so hard you forget to live. Old love isn’t the only love you’ll ever have.”

— Sarah Addison Allen

282. “The first thing she noticed when the light popped on was that the wallpaper had rows and rows of tiny lilacs on it, like scratch-and-sniff paper, and the room actually smelled a little like lilacs. There was a four-poster bed against the wall, the torn, gauzy remnants of what had once been a canopy now hanging off the posts like maypoles.”

— Sarah Addison Allen

283. “Not everything has to be real to be true.”

— Sarah Addison Allen

284. “The morning sun on her white hair and pale face made her seem almost translucent. She’d been a beautiful woman in her day, with wide eyes, high cheekbones, and a long, thin nose. Sometimes you could still catch sight of that beauty, and it was like looking through enchanted glass.”

— Sarah Addison Allen

285. “But now she wondered if finding out the truth behind some stories would constitute an even greater loss, because it meant losing something you were happy believing.”

— Sarah Addison Allen

286. “She says it’s about the love you give, not the love you get.”

— Sarah Addison Allen

287. “It was Paxton Osgood, wearing a cute pink dress and gorgeous shoes. She was tall like her brother, but had wide curves, as if one of her angular French ancestors had scandalized everyone by marrying a pretty stout milkmaid, and several generations later, Paxton was the result.”

— Sarah Addison Allen

288. “The desk in front of Frasier was littered with sketchbooks and colored pencils. Drawing was a medium he’d taken up later in life and all he drew was birds, over and over, usually in the heat of the day when it was too hot to be in the garden. The wall in front of him was covered in sketches of the dellawisps, so many of them the papers overlapped, forming a decoupage of turquoise birds.”

— Sarah Addison Allen