Sisterhood Of The Traveling Pants Quotes

Maybe the truth is, there's a little bit of loser in all of us. Being happy isn't having everything in your life be perfect. Maybe it's about stringing together all the little things.

Maybe, sometimes, it's easier to be mad at the people you trust because you know they'll always love you, no matter what.

Today is the tomorrow we worried about yesterday.

Don't talk to me. I'm tired and grumpy and I'll probably make fun of you.

You know what the secret is? It's so simple. We love one another. We're nice to one another. Do you know how rare that is? - Carmen

Time is what keeps things from happening all at once.

I love you, I'll never stop.

Wish for what you want, work for what you need. -Carmen's grandmother

It’s more that I’m afraid of time. And not having enough of it. Time to figure out who I’m supposed to be… to find my place in the world before I have to leave it. I’m afraid of what I’ll miss.

Particularly beautiful people were like particularly funny-looking people, though. Once you know them you mostly forgot about it.

She was sad about what happened to Kostos. And someplace under that, she was sad that people like Bee and Kostos, who had lost everything, were still open to love, and she, who'd lost nothing, was not.

Maybe happiness didn't have to be about the big, sweeping circumstances, about having everything in your life in place. Maybe it was about stringing together a bunch of small pleasures. Wearing slippers and watching the Miss Universe contest. Eating a brownie with vanilla ice cream. Getting to level seven in Dragon Master and knowing there were twenty more levels to go. Maybe happiness was just a matter of the little upticks- the traffic signal that said "Walk" the second you go there- and downticks- the itch tag at the back of your collar- that happened to every person in the course of the day. Maybe everybody had the same allotted measure of happiness within each day. maybe it didn't matter if you were a world-famous heartthrob or a painful geek. Maybe it didn't matter if your friend was possibly dying. Maybe you just got through it. Maybe that was all you could ask for.

Maybe there is more truth in how you feel than in what actually happens.

Lena was an introvert. She knew she had trouble connecting with people. She always felt like her looks were fake bait, seeming to offer a bridge to people, which she couldn't easily cross.

She wanted him to notice her so much.

Rule #1: The customer is always right. Rule #2: If the customer is wrong, please refer to rule #1. -Duncan Howe

I always interpret coincidences as little clues to our destiny

Sometimes you need to make a mess. -Loretta, the Rollinses' hosekeeper

I'm afraid of time. I mean, I'm afraid of not having enough time. Not enough time to understand people, how they really are, or to be understood myself.

Luck never gives; it lends.

Wear them, they will make you brave.

She was alive, and they were dead. She had to try to make her life big. As big as she could. She promised Bailey she would keep playing.

Can you make yourself love? Can you make yourself loved? -Lena Kaligaris

It was funny to hear her voice aloud. Her thoughts and perceptions usually existed so deep inside her, they rarely made it to the surface without a deliberate effort.

The problem is not the problem. The problem is your attitude about the problem. Got that? -Coach Brevin

She perched on her windowsill, gazing at the lurid sun soaking into the Caldera, trying to appreciate it even though she couldn’t have it. Why did she always feel she had to do something in the face of beauty?

Love is like war; easy to begin, hard to end.

Maybe the truth is there's a little bit of loser in all of us you know, being happy isn't having everything in your life being perfect. Maybe it's about stringing together all the little things. Making those count more then the bad stuff. Maybe we just get through it and that's all we can ask for.

My butt has specific requirements for pants.

Shy” was the sympathetic interpretation she got from older people. “Snotty” was the interpretation she got from people her own age.

It was her last breakfast with Bapi, her last morning in Greece. In her frenetic bliss that kept her up till dawn, she’d scripted a whole conversation in Greek for her and Bapi to have as their grand finale of the summer. Now she looked at him contentedly munching on his Rice Krispies, waiting for the right juncture for launchtime. He looked up at her briefly and smiled, and she realized something important. This was how they both liked it. Though most people felt bonded by conversation, Lena and Bapi were two of a kind who didn’t. They bonded by the routine of just eating cereal together. She promptly forgot her script and went back to her cereal. At one point, when she was down to just milk, Bapi reached over and put his hand on hers. ‘You’re my girl,’ he said. And Lena knew she was.

She kept walking. The very small, brave part of her brain knew that this would be her one chance. If she turned around, she would lose it.

Dad, Please accept this money to fix the broken window. I’m sure it’s already fixed, considering Lydia’s house pride and her phobia about unconditioned air, but Dear Al, I can’t begin to explain my actions at Lydia’s – I mean yours and Lydia’s house. When I get to Charleston, I never imagined that you would have Dear Dad and Lydia, I apologize to both of you for my irrational behavior. I know it’s all my fault, but if you would have listened to ONE THING I had to say, I might not have Dear Dad’s new family, I hope you’ll all be very happy being blond together. May people speak only in inside voices for the rest of your lives. P.S. Lydia, you wedding dress makes your arms look fat.

I like that you let yourself be surprised

I’m sorry you asked me out, otherwise maybe I could have liked you.

Forget Jack, I'm in love with the cold, dirt floor.

So far, she’d been her usual lame self: solitary and routine-loving, carefully avoiding any path that might lead to spontaneous human interaction. Lena Kaligaris

Lena was suspicious of many things. But she had earned her suspicions about boys. Lena knew boys. They never looked beyond your looks. They pretended to be your friend to get you to trust them, and as soon as you trusted them, they went in for the grope. They pretended to want to work on a history project or volunteer on your blood drive committee to get your attention. But as soon as they got it through their skulls that you didn't want to go out with them, they suddenly weren't interested in time lines or dire blood shortages. Worst of all, on occasion they even went out with one of your best friends to get close to you, and broke that same best friend's heart when the truth came out. Lean preferred plain guys to cute ones, but even the plain ones disappointed her.

When life gives you lemons, say cool, what else you got?

I feel like I should love them right away. But how do you do that? You can't make yourself love someone, can you?

Someday when you're twenty, maybe, I'll see you again. You'll be this hot soccer star at some great school, with a million guys more interesting than I am chasing you down. And you know what? I'll see you and I'll pray you want me still.

Single-minded to the point of recklessness

The forgetting and having to remember again was the very worst part.

Maybe happiness was just a matter of the little upticks. The traffic signal that said walk the second you got there, that happened to every person in the course of a day.

The rules took a while to sort out. Lena and Carmen wanted to focus on friendship-type rules, stuff about keeping in touch with one another over the summer, and making sure the Pants kept moving from one girl to the next. Tibby preferred to focus on random things you could and couldn't do in the Pants --- like picking your nose.

We will go. Nowhere we know. We don't have to talk at all.

Maybe happiness didn't have to be about the big, sweeping circumstances, about having everything in your life in place. Maybe it was about stringing together a bunch of small pleasures.

Her need was as big as the stars, and he was down there on the beach, so quiet she could hardly hear him.

I'm afraid of not having enough time," she clarified. "Not enough time to understand people, how they really are, or to be understood myself. I'm afraid of the quick judgments and mistakes that everybody makes. You can't fix them without time. I'm afraid of seeing snapshots instead of movies.

Lena studied the faces of the girls on the sidelines. She could tell that Kostos owned the lust of what few local teenage girls there were in Oia, but instead he chose to dance with all the grandmothers, all the women who had raised him, who had poured into him the love they couldn't spend on their own absent children and grandchildren.

In a way it scared me, having a summer of experiences and feelings that belonged to me alone. What happened in front of my friends felt read. What happened to me by myself felt partly dreamed, partly imagined, definitely shifted and warped by own fears and wants. And who knows? Maybe there is more truth in how you feel than in what actually happens.

Like why Lena always thought of Ritz crackers when she shaved her legs. Who knew why? And did it even matter?

Tibby, you are crazy," Carmen said. "Those pants are in love with you. They want you for your body and your mind." She couldn't help seeing the pants in a completely new way.

There was a mysterious chasm between this island and the greater world, just like there was between old and young, ancient and new.

Why was it that her temper and her thinking never happened at the same time? Her temper behaved like a glutton sitting in an expensive restaurant ordering a hundred dishes, only to disappear when the bill came due. It left her lucid mind to do dishes.

Era triste per quello che era successo a Kostos. E da qualche parte era triste perché gente come Bee e Kostos, che avevano perso tutto, erano ancora aperti all’amore, e lei che non aveva perso nulla non lo era.

Barbara appraised her with critical eyes. ‘Oh my. Well, this is going to need some work.’ She went right to Carmen’s hips and pulled the unfinished seams open. ‘Yes, we’ll have to take this way out. I’m not sure I have enough fabric. I’ll check when I get back to my office.’ You are a horrible witch, Carmen thought. She knew she looked absolutely awful in the dress. She was part Bourbon Street whore and part Latina first-communion spectacle.

Men occasionally stumble over the truth, but most of them pick themselves up and hurry off as if nothing had happened. —Winston Churchill

The summers before that are a blur of baby oil and Sun-In and hating our bodies (I got big breasts; Tibby got no breasts) at the Rockwood public swimming pool.

The real lesson embodied in Katherine’s three-year-old frame was the opposite: Try, reach, want, and you may fall. But even if you do, you might be okay anyway.

Fine, blood was thicker than water. But friendship, it struck Tibby, was thicker than both.

Lui la seguì, senza maglietta: portava solo i boxer. Non era costretto a seguirla. Il cuore di Bridget faceva le fusa. Tese una mano verso di lui. «Sapevi che sarei venuta?» chiese. Faticava a distinguere i lineamenti di Eric, nell’oscurità. «Non volevo» rispose lui. Fece una lunga pausa. «E lo speravo»

We're the Septembers now. The real ones. We are everything to one another. We don't need to say so; it's just true. Sometimes it seems like we're so close we form one single complete person rather than four separate ones. We settle into types- Bridget the athlete, Lena the beauty, Tibby the rebel, and me, Carmen, the...what? The one with the bad temper. But the one who cares the most. The one who cares that we stick together.

My mother says it can't stay like this, but I believe it will. The Pants are like an omen. They stand for the promise we made to one another, that no matter what happens, we stick together. But they stand for a challenge too. It's not enough to stay in Bethesda, Maryland, and hunker down in air-conditioned houses. We promise one another that someday we'd get out in the world and figure some stuff out.

Maybe happiness didn’t have to be about the big, sweeping circumstances, about having everything in your life in place. Maybe it was about stringing together a bunch of small pleasures… Maybe happiness was just a matter of the little upticks—the traffic signal that said “Walk” the second you got there—and downticks—the itchy tag at the back of your collar—that happened to every person in the course of a day. Maybe everybody had the same allotted measure of happiness within each day.

Your chances of getting hit by lightning go up if you stand under a tree, shake your fist at the sky, and say “Storms suck!” —Johnny carson

Patrick: I’m mad. SpongeBob: What’s the matter, Patrick? Patrick: I can’t see my forehead.

Maybe happiness didn't have to be about the big, sweeping circumstances, about having everything in your life in place.

Girls who wouldn't take risks both loved and hated girls who did. Bridget

She could understand and analyze and predict the exact outcome of her crazy, self-destructive behavior and then go ahead and do it anyway.

Whenever you did something because “life is too short not to,” you could be sure life would be just long enough to punish you for it.

Maybe happiness didn't have to be about big, sweeping circumstances, about having everything in your life in place. Maybe it was about stringing together a bunch of small pleasures.

I Pantaloni ci promettevano che c’era tempo. Niente sarebbe andato perduto. Avevamo un anno intero, se ce ne fosse stato bisogno. Avevamo tutta la strada fino all’estate successiva: allora avremmo tirato fuori i Pantaloni e, insieme o separate, avremmo ricominciato da capo

a good mother doesn’t just obey the wishes of her selfish heart. A good mother does what she believes is the best thing for her child. Sometimes they are the same. This time they are different.

She could sit here and cry for as long as she liked. She could crawl under the desk. She could run around in the parking lot. She could live big. She could make herself to do things that were hard. She could.

Usually by this time in the summer, we were as worn in to one another as pebbles in a riverbed. For three months we’d had complete togetherness and not much outside stimuli. What few stories we had, we’d considered, analyzed, celebrated, cursed, and joked into sand. Tonight was different. I felt like we were each separate and full to our edges with our own stories, mostly unshared. In a way it scared me, having a summer of experiences and feelings that belonged to me alone. What happened in front of my friends felt real. What happened to me by myself felt partly dreamed, partly imagined, definitely shifted and warped by my own fears and wants. But who knows? Maybe there is more truth in how you feel than in what actually happens.

Forse la felicità dipende solo dall’insieme di piccoli dettagli positivi — il semaforo che diventa verde nel secondo in cui tu arrivi — e negativi — l’etichetta della T-shirt che ti pizzica sul collo — che capitano a ciascuno durante un giorno. Forse a ciascuno è assegnata un’identica quantità di felicità al giorno.Forse non aveva importanza se eri un rubacuori celebre in tutto il mondo o un patetico solitario. Forse non importava se una tua amica stava morendo.Forse a certe cose si passa attraverso e basta. Forse era l’unica cosa che si poteva chiedere.

Some girls couldn’t stand being alone. Bridget was different. She went to movies, restaurants, even parties by herself. She loved her three friends above all other things, but she’d rather be alone than cling to people she didn’t care about.

The notorious after-date phone call. If a guy called within three days, he liked you. If he waited a week, that meant he didn’t have any better options and was probably just trying to get lucky. If he didn’t call at all, well, that-was obvious.

Grandma kept turning around in the front seat of their old Fiat saying, "Look at you girls! On, Lena, you are a beauty!" Lena seriously wished she would stop saying that, because it was irritating, and besides, how was cranky Effie supposed to feel?

Carmen avrebbe potuto comportarsi da persona matura; invece si buttò sull’erba, appena oltre il bordo campo. Era una fortuna che in South Carolina lei fosse diventata invisibile, altrimenti il suo avrebbe anche potuto essere scambiato per un atteggiamento di stizza.Se lei fosse stata una persona reale e non invisibile, se avesse potuto guardare se stessa attraverso gli occhi delle amiche o della madre, sarebbe riuscita a riconoscere i propri sentimenti. Da sola si sentiva alla deriva, trasparente

When she made her way to the big picture window that framed the dining room table she froze. She stopped breathing. The anger was growing again. It grew up into her throat, where she could taste it, coppery like blood, in the back of her mouth. It grew down into her stomach, where it knotted her intestines. It made her arms stiffen and her shoulders lock. It pushed against her ribs until she felt they would snap like sticks.

Alzò lo sguardo verso il cielo: un ricamo di foglie di quercia che risaltava in negativo. Allargò le braccia, come in croce. Rimase lì per un bel po’, qualche ora, non avrebbe saputo dire quanto. Avrebbe voluto pregare, ma si sentì in colpa perché lo faceva solo quando aveva bisogno. E non era nemmeno sicura di voler attirare su di sé l’attenzione di Dio: lei, la ragazza-che-prega-solo-quando-ha-bisogno-di-qualcosa. Magari lo avrebbe irritato. Forse avrebbe dovuto trattenersi, e pregare quando fosse riuscita a farlo solo per il desiderio di pregare, in modo che Lui la riprendesse in simpatia. Ma Dio (scusa, Dio), chi mai si ricorda di pregare quando le cose filano a gonfie vele? La gente buona, ecco chi si ricorda. E lei non era così

Quando anche le sue palpebre cominciarono a calare, Tibby si sdraiò con cautela, posando la testa sul cuscino, accanto a quella di Bailey. Sentiva il solletico leggero dei suoi capelli contro la guancia. Le lacrime le scivolarono fuori, scorsero oblique fino alle orecchie e sui capelli di Bailey. Sperava che andasse bene così. Sarebbe rimasta lì a tenere la mano di Bailey tutto il tempo, così lei non avrebbe avuto paura di non averne abbastanza

Some people show their beauty because they want the world to see it. Others hide their beauty because they want the world to see something else." -- Kostas

I feel like I should just love them right away. But how do you do that? You can't make yourself love someone, can you?

A pigeon is the same thing as a dove. Did you know that?

Once upon a time there was a pair of pants.

God often gives nuts to toothless people.              —Matt Groening

Each time her mind flashed on that image for a second, a fraction of a second, it blinded her like a flashbulb, burning out the center of her mind’s eye to blackness.

She needed to know someone was looking out for her. She needed someone to promise her that the world wasn't empty

Anatole and I had barely kissed. Most couples in the history of the world had barely kissed. It’s when the world changed and people started doing everything else, that’s when everybody got divorced.

Il terreno sopra la tomba di Bailey era ancora soffice. Tibby sollevò con cura di lato il tappetino d’erba e scavò nella terra con tutte e due le mani. Diede un bacio al sacchetto e posò Mimì nella buca. Poi la ricoprì e rimise a posto l’erba. Si sedette sul prato che copriva tutte e due. Guardò com’era bella la luna che calava già sull’orizzonte. Una parte di lei, una parte importante, voleva soltanto rimanere lì con loro. Avrebbe voluto acciambellarsi nella più minuta, più semplice esistenza possibile e lasciare che il mondo continuasse la sua corsa senza di lei.Si distese. Si rannicchiò. Poi cambiò idea

Ma quando si chinò un po’ oltre il davanzale, riconobbe un altro paio di gomiti appoggiati alla finestra più lontana del secondo piano. Erano i gomiti grinzosi di Bapi. Era seduto alla finestra a contemplare le due lune, proprio come lei. Lena sorrise, fuori e dentro di sé. Aveva imparato almeno una cosa, a Santorini. Lei non era come i genitori e neppure come la sorella, ma come il nonno: orgogliosa, silenziosa, timida. Per fortuna sua, Bapi aveva trovato il coraggio almeno una volta nella vita di rischiare in amore con una persona che sapeva come dare amore. Lena pregò di fronte alle due lune di trovare lo stesso coraggio

You get older and you learn there is one sentence, just four words long, and if you can say it to yourself it offers more comfort than almost any other. It goes like this.… Ready?” “Ready.” “ ‘At least I tried.’ ” Lena

She and Effie were already putting on their turtle-and-hare show. Everyone paid lots of attention to Lena at first, because she was striking to look at, but within a few hours or days, they always fully committed their attentions to exuberant, affectionate Effie. Lena felt Effie deserved it. Lena was an introvert. She knew she had trouble connecting with people. She always felt like her looks were fake bait, seeming to offer a bridge to people, which she couldn’t easily cross.

Questa volta era lui a essere nudo nel laghetto dall’acqua bassa, e lei era vestita, ma come l’altra volta, fu lei a ritrarsi avvampando, e lui a rimanere lì calmo.L’altra volta lei se l’era presa con Kostos, ora se la prese con se stessa. L’altra volta aveva pensato che lui fosse uno sciocco leggero e presuntuoso, ma questa volta capì che era lei ad esserlo. L’altra volta si era fissata ossessivamente sul proprio corpo esposto alla vista altrui; ora pensava a quello di Kostos.L’altra volta lui non era venuto a spiarla. Non l’aveva seguita. E probabilmente era rimasto stupito quanto lei nel vederla.Finora aveva pensato che fosse stato lui a invadere il suo posto speciale. Ora sapeva che era stata lei a invadere quello di Kostos.

Gli occhi di Kostos erano lucidi quanto i suoi. «Oh, Lena» disse. Le prese le mani sudate tra le sue. Sembrava che avesse capito che quello era il massimo a cui poteva arrivare.La attrasse a sé. Lui seduto sul muro e lei in piedi di fronte, erano quasi della stessa altezza. Le gambe di Lena toccavano le sue. Lena sentiva il suo odore: sapeva di cenere. Aveva la sensazione di dover svenire da un momento all’altro. Il viso di Kostos era lì, bello, ombreggiato dalla luce fiammeggiante. Le sue labbra erano lì. Con un coraggio che arrivava da chissadove, ma non dal suo corpo, Lena si chinò appena in avanti e gli baciò le labbra. Era un bacio e una domanda.Lui rispose attirandola a sé, premendo stretto il suo corpo contro il proprio, e il suo bacio fu lungo e profondo.Lena ebbe un ultimo pensiero, prima di smettere di pensare e abbandonarsi alle sensazioni: non se lo aspettava, che il paradiso fosse così rovente

In a way it scared me, having a summer of experiences and feelings that belonged to me alone. What happened in front of my friends felt real. What happened to me by myself felt partly dreamed, partly imagined, definitely shifted and warped by own fears and wants. And who knows? Maybe there is more truth in how you feel than in what actually happens.

Con la fantasia, Bridget tornò mille volte a quel primo bacio appassionato, rendendolo sempre più perfetto. Ma non andò oltre. Per molte ore, dopo avere lasciato Eric, rimase sveglia nel sacco a pelo. Tremava. Aveva gli occhi pieni di lacrime. Ecco che cominciavano a scendere. Lacrime di tristezza, di disagio, d’amore. Erano il genere di lacrime che le venivano quando si sentiva troppo colma: aveva bisogno di fare un po’ di spazio. Guardò il cielo. Era più grande, quella notte. Quella notte i suoi pensieri si avventuravano negli spazi infiniti e, come diceva Diana, non trovavano alcun ostacolo su cui rimbalzare per tornare indietro. Andavano avanti e avanti, finché nulla sembrava più reale. Neppure il pensiero. Bridget si era stretta a Eric, piena di desiderio, insicura, spavalda e impaurita. C’era una tempesta nel suo corpo, e quando era diventata troppo violenta, lei era andata via. Si era lasciata levitare fino alle fronde delle palme. Lo aveva già fatto altre volte. Avrebbe lasciato affondare la nave senza il capitano. Quello che era successo con Eric era insondabile, indescrivibile. Ora tutto questo era lì con lei, incerto, desideroso di qualcuno che se ne prendesse cura: ma Bridget non sapeva come. Richiamò indietro i propri pensieri, raccogliendoli ad anello come il filo di un aquilone. Si arrotolò il sacco a pelo sotto il braccio e tornò furtiva alla baracca. Si distese sul letto. Quella notte non avrebbe concesso ai suoi pensieri di avventurarsi oltre le travi sbiadite del soffitto