Gillian Flynn Quotes

I have a meanness inside me, real as an organ. Slit me at my belly and it might slide out, meaty and dark, drop on the floor so you could stomp on it. It’s the Day blood. Something’s wrong with it.

I have many friends who are married—not many who are happily married, but many married friends.

I just think some women aren’t made to be mothers. And some women aren’t made to be daughters.

I just want to live until I can't anymore, she said.

I just want to live until I can’t anymore.

I like other people’s things better. They come with other people’s history.

I like the name. Like in Breakfast at Tiffany’s and Audrey Hepburn’s cat was named Cat.

I love that I am a woman with booby traps

I might as well have said dot dot dot aloud.

I need to be ambushed, caught unawares, like some sort of feral love-jackal.

I never knew I was capable of being ridiculous over a man.

I often don’t say things out loud, even when I should. I contain and compartmentalize to a disturbing degree: In my belly-basement are hundreds of bottles of rage, despair, fear, but you’d never guess...

I opened the door. Nonononono.

I sat at the bottom of the bathtub, humiliated, trying not to cry. So

I sat in a room the color of egg yolk for two hours while the officer got my story down. The whole time I was thinking about Natalie going to autopsy, and how I would like to sneak in and put a fresh...

I should add, in Amy’s defense, that she’d asked me twice if I wanted to talk, if I was sure I wanted to do this. I sometimes leave out details like that. It’s more convenient for me. In truth, I want...

I sometimes leave out details like that. It's more convenient for me. In truth, I wanted her to read my mind so I didn't have to stoop to the womanly art of articulation.

I stand in the middle of my room and debate not answering. Bang bang bang. I understand now why so many horror movies use that device—the mysterious knock on the door—because it has the weight of a ni...

I started on the opening page of my own book.'I am a cheating, weak-spined, women-fearing coward, and i am the hero of your story. Because the woman I cheated on - my wife, Amy Elliott Dunne - is a so...

I stopped loving you. Why? You stopped loving me. We’re a sick, fucking toxic Möbius strip, Amy. We weren’t ourselves when we fell in love, and when we became ourselves—surprise!—we were poison.