A Quote by Sara Pennypacker

I see a broken shell and I remind myself that something might have needed setting free. See, broken things always have a story, don't they? — © Sara Pennypacker
I see a broken shell and I remind myself that something might have needed setting free. See, broken things always have a story, don't they?
I was never one to patiently pick up broken fragments and glue them together again and tell myself that the mended whole was as good as new. What is broken is broken - and I'd rather remember it as it was at its best than mend it and see the broken places as long as I lived.
See, broken things always have a story, don't they?
Broken bottles, broken plates, broken switches, broken gates. Broken dishes, broken parts, streets are filled with broken hearts.
I start to see that I surround myself with broken people; more broken than me. Ah, yes, let me count your cracks. Let's see, one hundred, two... yes, you'll do nicely. A cracked companion makes me look more whole, gives me something outside myself to care for. When I'm with whole, healed people I feel my own cracks, the shatters, the insanities of dislocation in myself.
Everybody knows something's broken in the world. But illogically, foolishly, we are looking for fixes from broken people with broken ideas in broken places.
What’s broken is broken—and I’d rather remember it as it was at its best than mend it and see the broken places as long as I live…I’m too old to believe in such sentimentalities as clean slates and starting all over.
This world is full of broken things: broken hearts, broken promises, broken people.
To be broken is no reason to see all things as broken.
I see myself as a storyteller. So, when I read something, I see the story, and I see it on screen, in my head, in a certain way. I always want to see it and see me in it.
I’m broken, I have cut myself wide open. I can see my heart and it is not what I believed it was, it is not good and kind and all the things I have always thought I am.
The point is that something I thought was perfect has been broken, and I'm having to find the beauty in what is there instead of what I thought was there. Like this shell. I can either spend all my time wishing it were perfect, trying to imagine it the way it was or might have been, or I can see how beautiful it is just like this.
Whatever happened to me just now has gotten to me, broken past the fragile shell I've built. More than my memory is gone. My soul has wings that beat to a heart I don't understand and I see things, feel things that I know aren't from here, but that are so real.
Some things just couldn't be protected from the storm. Some things simply needed to be broken off...Once the old things were broken off, amazingly beautiful things grow in their place.
Let me tell you something: You can live in a broken home, you can play with a broken toy, but you cannot love with a broken heart.
I've kind of banned myself from motorcycles. I've had broken ribs, broken shoulder, wrists, leg, broken collarbone - and it was all from motocross or rugby. All of my injuries have come from outside of sailing.
In true love there is no heart break. A broken heat means broken demands, broken expectations and broken hopes.
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