A Quote by Sarah Dessen

It passed, though. That was the bad thing. It always passed. — © Sarah Dessen
It passed, though. That was the bad thing. It always passed.
And we passed through the cavern of rats. And we passed through the path of boiling steam. And we passed through the country of the blind. And we passed through the slough of despond. And we passed through the vale of tears. And we came, finally, to the ice caverns.
Reachable, near and not lost, there remained in the midst of the losses this one thing: language. It, the language, remained, not lost, yes, in spite of everything. But it had to pass through its own answerlessness, pass through frightful muting, pass through the thousand darknesses of deathbringing speech. It passed through and gave back no words for that which happened; yet it passed through this happening. Passed through and could come to light again, “enriched” by all this.
That passed the time. It would have passed in any case. Yes, but not so rapidly.
Memory is a stopgap for humans, for whom time flies and what is passed is passed.
Neither can the wave that has passed by be recalled, nor the hour which has passed return again.
In 1984, when I was a rookie member of the House, there was a bill introduced to make Martin Luther King's birthday a state holiday. It didn't have a chance. As time passed, though, more and more states adopted the holiday. Finally, after about five years, we passed it and, I think, almost unanimously. As I said, change is slow and hard.
Xavier Kingston was my second born son and he passed away prematurely. He lived for 13 days then he passed.
My mother passed. She passed when I was 10 or 11.
My father had a lot to do with me thinking about acting, though he never saw me act. He passed away probably - he passed away as I was doing my first play, but I just think being exposed to it and being around it. It wasn't something that I ever thought I couldn't do because I grew up around it.
The exhilaration was hard to explain. It was a lonely feeling — a somehow melancholy feeling. He was outside; he passed on the wings of the wind, and none of the people beyond the brightly lighted squares of their windows saw him. They were inside, inside where there was light and warmth. They didn't know he had passed them; only he knew. It was a secret thing.
I honestly feel that because Steve has passed, you know, it's like when Biggie passed and Jay-Z was allowed to become Jay-Z.
The Bible tells us that the sins of the fathers are passed to succeeding generations. The virtues of the fathers can be passed along, too.
Environmental laws were not passed to protect our air and water, they were passed to get votes.
I had to tell the city that 2Pac passed, and I had to be on the radio early after Biggie passed. Those were awful, emotional.
Two years passed, and I had no second book to follow 'Roots.' Four years passed, six years. When a decade had passed without me having another book to follow 'Roots,' I was having serious private frustrations with myself.
My grandmother passed at 104. She sang and wrote songs until she passed.
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