I don't feel like Nick's wife. I don't feel like a person at all: I am something to be loaded and unloaded, like a sofa or a cuckoo clock. I am something to be tossed into a junkyard, thrown into the...
He turns around, and when he sees me standing there, he looks scared. That’s something useful. Because I’m not going to let him go. He may think he was lying when he said all those nice things to lure...
Fuckyoufuckyoufuckyou, I chanted,
El amor hace que quieras ser un hombre mejor, vale, de acuerdo. Pero a lo mejor el amor, el verdadero amor, también te autoriza para ser simplemente el hombre que eres.
Day, would meet harm on top of it? Wasn’t I safe by default?
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.
Birini gerçekten sevmekle onu sevme fikrini sevmek arasında çok büyük fark vardır.
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.
All the stuff I don't like about myself has been pushed to the back of my brain. Maybe that is what I like best about him, the way he makes me. Not makes me feel, just makes me. I am fun. I am playful...
Ah, well, being conflicted means you can live a shallow life without copping to be a shallow person.
Against the far wall was a wire cage holding a pack of unblinking bunnies. World’s dumbest pet, I thought. Who would want an animal that sat, quivered, and shat everywhere? They say you can litter-box...
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),
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.
I woke up on my sister's couch with a raging hangover and an urge to kill my wife.
At one point, she probably liked the idea of a daughter. When she was a girl, I bet she daydreamed of being a mother, of coddling, of licking her child like a milk-swelled cat. She has that voraciousn...
Always have a backup plan to the backup plan.