Quotes from Harriet Evans

You don't fall in love with someone because it's convenient.

People don't fall in love with each other because it's convenient. They fall in love because they fall in love, and that's it.

Everyone's allowed to be in love with the wrong person at some point. In fact, it's a mistake not to be.

Darling, you fall in love all the time. You can't run away just because it doesn't fit into your exact romantic dreamworld, you know.

It was dreadful, when she thought about it with the tiniest bit of hindsight, to admit this was the case. That a small part of herself was such a masochist, so enjoyed putting herself through all of this, that she liked hearing sad songs on the radio and staring gloomily out the window late at night. The tears in her eyes as she walked home of an evening, thinking about how much she loved him and how great they were together. It was so adolescent.

I fell in love with you that summer all those years ago. I never really told you, because of everything that happened. But I suppose I've been in love with you ever since. Everything's been wrong with us, timing -wise. Hasn't it? I just wanted you to know I wasn't an idiot, some stupid bastard who wanted to hurt you. I could never do that to you. There were reasons.

Don't run away from it, just because it's difficult.

Not to be with the one you love, Laura, the one person you should be spending your life with--it's like a kind of living death. To wake up every morning and know you are still here. To have that brief, sweet moment of blankness, before your mind reminds you who you are, and why you are unhappy. It was like hell. A living hell of the heart's own making.

She had realised that they couldn't be together. She didn't want to make a romantic drama out of it, she didn't want to sigh and mope or scream hysterically to impress others with how awful it all was, even though she felt as if something fundamental, deep within her, had been taken away from her. She was simply trying to cope, to get on with her own normal life. Which, she knew, was something he could not be a part of.

She missed him. And she was scared, deep down, because she felt him pulling away from her, and even though he assured her he wasn't, she didn't believe him.

She thought she was a sensible girl. But some kind of love had taken hold of her and refused to let her go, and it wasn't a happy, easy, joyful thing, it had her in a vice-like grip.

I think you might have missed the right person, your true love, because you have spent your life looking too hard for him. You have a great capacity to love, Laura. Don't run away from it. Use it. Stop wasting it. Throw yourself into it, and don't be scared. I promise you, with all my heart, that you will never live a day when you regret it.

Why do you want the world to be black and white? It's not.

She was different. She liked hearing it, because she wanted to recall just enough of it to remember that she never wanted to go back to being the person she'd been before.

I want to be happy. To make someone else happy. To do my job well, be a good person

I'm not going to tell you how I think you should live your life, or what I think you should do," said Mary. "Now's not the time. But I will say this: Don't try to paper over things that matter, Laura. The cracks will appear. Maybe not immediately, but they will.

No, she learned that true love was epic stuff, as told by Mary.

She had lost him. Lost him because she'd let him go. And she could not allow herself to regret that decision.

She didn't want to forget how deeply she had loved him, how important it had been to her; she felt as if to discard the memory would be a betrayal of her younger self.

Because if you love someone, you have to be brave and tell them. Don't let them go. And if you say no I'm going to spend the rest of my life trying to convince you I'm right. I promise. I won't leave you alone. Because it's not about who's whats or wheres or anything. We should be together. The other stuff doesn't matter. That's all.

Why is someone only passionate about books if they're into literary books that win prizes? Why can't you be passionate about books and only read romance?

Laura's problem was that she kept casting men in roles they weren't suited for. Like lovely Josh, casting him in the role of decent, kind house-husband, the perfect partner, the modern male, when - what was it that she'd actually loved about him, really? Laura tried to think, and couldn't come up with an answer. He was a great man - kind, funny, clever, hard working - but there was no way he was the man for her, she realised now. Why hadn't she seen it?

Since being back in London everything seemed greyer, but clearer. She couldn't explain it. The strangest thing was she couldn't recall her New York self. She wanted that part of herself back, but she couldn't remember what it was like to be that Elle. She would catch a whiff of it, like the snatch of a song that still won't lead you to the chorus, and then it would be gone.

WHY did she do this? She was a terrible drunk texter. All the things she wanted to say to people during the day came out at night, like a vampire.