El amor debería exigir que ambas partes de n lo mejor de sí mismas en todo momento. El amor incondicional es un amor indisciplinado y, como ya hemos visto todos, el amor indisciplinado solo conduce al...
Curry was wrong: Being an insider here was more distracting than useful.
Children digest terror differently. The boy saw a horror, and that horror became the wicked witch of fairy tales, the cruel snow queen.
At her easiest, she was hard, because her brain was always working, working, working - I had to exert myself just to keep pace with her. I'd spend an hour crafting a casual e-mail to her, I became a s...
And then you run into Nick Dunne on the Seventh Avenue as you're buying diced cantaloupe, and pow, you are known, you are recognized, the both of you. You both find the exact same things worth remembe...
And the Cool Girls are even more pathetic: They're not even pretending to be the woman they want to be, they're pretending to be the woman a man wants them to be.
Ah, well, being conflicted means you can live a shallow life without copping to be a shallow person.
A lot of people lacked that gift: knowing when to fuck off. People love talking, and I have never been a huge talker. I carry on an inner monologue, but the words often don't reach my lips
Never entirely erased the stink, though—she must have one rank pussy),
We stare at the wonders of the world, dull-eyed, underwhelmed. Mona Lisa, the Pyramids, the Empire State Building. Jungle animals on attack, ancient icebergs collapsing, volcanoes erupting. I can’t re...
This is Nick’s wife, Amy, who was born and raised in New York City. And her friends, plump and welcoming, immediately suffer some strange Tourettesian episode: They repeat the words—New York City!—wit...
There are variations to the window dressing, but believe me, he wants Cool Girl, who is basically the girl who likes every fucking thing he likes and doesn’t ever complain. (How do you know you’re not...
Su cerebro es tan complejo que nunca trabaja únicamente a un nivel. Es como un yacimiento arqueológico interminable: cuando crees que has alcanzado la última capa y dejas caer el pico por última vez,...
No one saves an e-mail, because it's so inherently impersonal. I worry about posterity in general. All the great love letters - from Simone de Beauvoir to Sartre, from Samuel Clemens to his wife, Oliv...
My wife was crazy. I was married to a crazy woman. It's every asshole's mantra: I married a psycho bitch. But I got a small, nasty bite of gratification: I really did marry a genuine, bona fide psycho...
My body was heading into a flare. I paced a bit, tried to remember how to breathe right, how to calm my skin. But it blared at me. Sometimes my scars have a mind of their own.
Most sows are repeatedly inseminated, brood after brood, till their bodies give way and they go to slaughter. But while they’re still useful, they’re made to nurse—strapped to their sides in a farrowi...
Just like Nick, who destroyed and rejected the real me a piece at a time – you’re too serious, Amy, you’re too uptight, Amy, you overthink things, you analyze too much, you’re no fun anymore, you make...
It is a January party, definitely, everyone still glutted and sugar-pissed from the holidays, lazy and irritated simultaneously.
I went into Andie’s bathroom, took a piss, looked at myself in the mirror, and made myself say it: You are a cheater. You have failed one of the most basic male tests. You are not a good man. And when...