Just … No, Amy. Not right now. I can’t take one more bit of stress. I can’t handle one more thing to worry about. I am cracking under the pressure. I will snap. For once I know he’s telling the truth.
Jeez, wait, don’t get bent out of shape. But I was born bent out of shape. I could picture myself coming out of the womb crooked and wrong. It never takes much for me to lose patience. The phrase fuck...
Je n'étais pas une enfant aimable, et je suis devenue une adulte profondément mal aimable. Si on voulait dessiner mon âme, on obtiendrait un gribouillis avec des crocs pointus.
Jackie, shut up, Annabelle said, and threw a roll, hard, at Jackie’s face. It bounced off her nose and thumped onto the table.
I can do pretty much anything. A ghost has that freedom.
I’ve basically turned into Liza Minnelli: I’m dancing in tights and sequins, begging you to love me.
I’ve always hovered above their stories, nodding in sympathy and thinking how foolish they are, these women, to let these things happen, how undisciplined. And now to be one of them! One of the women...
I’ve always been partial to the image of liquor as lubrication—a layer of protection from all the sharp thoughts in your head. The
I’m not sure what all the fuss is about. But we are working backward: dinner first, then drinks in one of the little nooks Campbell has reserved, a mini-closet where you can lounge expensively in a pl...
I’m not really a nerd; I only aspire to be one.
I’m not good at things like that: haircuts or oil changes or dentist visits. When I moved into my bungalow, I spent the first three months swaddled in blankets because I couldn’t deal with getting the...
It’s probably why I was so hateful to her, she kept me from what I wanted the most.
It’s probably the reason I’m a second-rate journalist. One of them, at least.
It's so strange to think: A year ago today, I was undoing my husband. Now I am almost done reassembling him.
It's a very difficult era in which to be a person, just a real, actual person, instead of a collection of personality traits selected from an endless Automat of characters. And if all of us are play-a...
It wasn’t that I truly felt bad that I’d upset my mother—it was more that I hated any debits in her column.
It was a punishing whim on my part, a nasty, selfish twist of the knife.
It sounded artificial, like a beauty contestant pledging world peace.
It seemed to me that there was nothing new to be discovered ever again. Our society was utterly, ruinously derivative (although the word derivative as a criticism is itself derivative). We were the fi...
It seemed to me that she'd been expelled into this world not quite formed,