Quotes from Caroline Kepnes

The song "Born in the U.S.A." comes on and he groans. "I hate Bruce Springsteen," he says. "Can we do something about this? Goddamn whiny Democrat, we get it . You're from New Jersey and you think it's cool to be poor . Just fuck off already.

It's June and the city is ripe with meaningless fecal heat. It will be a different kind of hot in LA, the kind that made the Beach Boys all tan and giddy, a heat that doesn't harass you in the shade.

Your jaw drops and your mouth opens and then it closes and your eyes are wide and you are dazzled. You purr. "He says he's sorry when he's wrong and he lets me spend two hours looking at couches I don't need? Joe, are you for real?

Guac is guac and while sometimes it's slimy and disgusting, it's never delicious.

What a shame to be so angered by what you don't have that you treat what you do have like it's nothing. She's

wasted sixteen days of our life in that hospital bed because sure, health is fun, but what good is health without love?

know it's hard, being with the wrong person when the right person is right here.

Opposites attract. But opposites destroy.

Thank you so much." "Every time." "I like that. Every time. Instead of 'anytime.' It's pointed." "Well, I mean it.

I bet we look great from above, lit by stars, in love.

Oh no, that's totally different. A nursing home list is a list of things you plan on reading and watching in a nursing home. A bucket list is more like . . . visit Nigeria, jump out of an airplane. A nursing home list is like, read The Western Coast and watch Pulp Fiction and listen to the latest Daft Punk album.

MY, you have a way of making me do things I don't normally do. I haven't dressed up for Halloween since the third grade (Spiderman), and though it's gotten harder over the years, I've managed to silently protest that whore of a holiday for the bulk of my life. Yet here I am in a mothball-scented dressing room at Bridgeport Costumes. The dressing room is so small that a fucking Smurf would be sweating.

Otherwise you might have an old Irish slag knocking at your door in the wee hours.

if there's one dude that everyone on the Upper West Side will welcome with open arms, it's the fucking jogger.

You look up and now I see a part of you that's new to me, a part that does want to be killed and I don't think you've ever been loved the right way and you don't say anything and I don't say anything and we both know that you're testing me, testing the world. You didn't get off that stage tonight until the last person stopped clapping and you didn't tie your shoelaces and you blamed the world when you tripped.

most people in this world feel guilty about being who they are.

All right," I say and I go on, stronger than Celine Dion's heart.

and the problem with books is that they end. They seduce you. They spread their legs to you and pull you inside. And you go deep and leave your possessions and your ties to the world at the door and you like it inside and you don't want for your possessions or your ties and then, the book evaporates.

But you were a classic middle child, and you did well in school and your whole life you were labeled "the hope," the one who would get away.

And you didn't have to go out and get it. You didn't have to make eye contact with the guy at the store who now knows you like watching girls get spanked. Eye contact is what keeps us civilized.

In the Richard Scarry sense of the world, everyone in my life is busy being busy. And I'm busy too.

It's so vengeful, so middle school, the way they want to boil my entire life down into these two dead girls.

I don't need help when it comes to self-soothing. I know how to survive and I will survive

I live for living