I need to be ambushed, caught unawares, like some sort of feral love-jackal.
I know I am going to be angry – that quick inhale, the lips going tight, the shoulders up, the I so don’t want to be mad but I’m going to be feeling.
I knew I liked her then, really liked her, this girl with an explanation for everything.
I just think some women aren’t made to be mothers. And some women aren’t made to be daughters.
I have many friends who are married—not many who are happily married, but many married friends.
I hate people who start their conversations with facts . What are supposed to do with that? sure is hot today ! yes it is .
I eat beef jerky and ride with bare feet on the dashboard. We
I don’t know anyone’s name. If one of those women died, I couldn’t even say, Poor old Mrs. Zalinsky died. I’d have to say, That mean old bitch across the street bit it.
I don’t get why I need to prove my love to you by remembering the exact same things you do, the exact same way you do. It doesn’t mean I don’t love our life together.
I don't know that we are actually human at this point, those of us who are like most of us, who grew up with movies and TV and now the internet. If we are betrayed, we know the words to say; when a lo...
I could feel my limbs disconnecting, floating nearby like driftwood on an oily lake.
I changed my name for that piece of shit. Historical records have been altered—Amy Elliott to Amy Dunne—like it’s nothing. No, he does not get to win.
His life was a long line of denials, just waiting for him.
Hell, at this point, I can’t imagine my story without Amy. She is my forever antagonist. We are one long frightening climax.
He was one of those guys who’d pronounce I’m a hugger as he came at you, neglecting to ask if the feeling was mutual. Marybeth
He teased things out in me that I didn’t know existed: a lightness, a humor, an ease. It was as if he hollowed me out and filled me with feathers.
He looks like the rich-boy villain in an '80s teen movie - the one who bullies the sensitive misfit, the one who will end up with a pie in the puss, the whipped cream wilting his upturned collar as ev...
He killed my soul, which should be a crime.
He killed my soul, which should be a crime. Actually, it is a crime. According to me, at least.
Had things turned out differently, I might have amused myself with a series of heart-wretched lovers. I might have dallied with brilliant men. I might have married.