Quotes from Lisa Jewell

You never really know a person until after they're dead. That's when it all comes out. All the stuff they locked up in boxes. All the secrets, all the lies. That's when you know the truth.

May there be rivers of margaritas flowing through the valleys of heaven.

It scares me sometimes how much room in my tiny little brain is taken up by things like the name of Liz Hurley's new boyfriend.

From the first night that both her children slept through the night, Kim has placed a very – possibly disproportionately – high value on an unbroken night. She had her kids young and easily had time enough and room in her heart for another one or two. But she could not face the prospect of sleepless nights again. For

tell you what – I just lost the plot – totally. I

Music had always conjured up a sense of another life . . . of other, better ways of feeling and existing and being.

And then, just over twelve months ago, her teenage daughter, Tallulah, had a baby. And now Kim is a grandmother at the age of thirty-nine and there is a crying baby in her house again, soon, it feels, so soon, after her own babies stopped crying.

see what is in his eyes: the truth. He knows that Justin's suicide note is a fiction. He knows that my tears are theatrical. He knows that I killed Birdie. And he knows that I know he knows.

Thoughts of destiny and cause-and-effect and how maybe if that girl wasn't working in that bar . . . maybe someone else on the other side of the planet would be unable to come up with a cure for cancer.

Wearing nice underwear. Ready for sex. But that wasn't what he wanted. He raped me in his kitchen. He pushed me into broken glass. Look.' Lucy pulls up her T-shirt to show Rachel the small livid scar that is still there, over a year later. 'I was bleeding and in pain and he kept raping me and there was this knife. The knife I'd been using to slice the tomatoes.

Yes. I know. I look like you. Crazy, eh? Can you believe it? What sort of sad loser spends his whole adult life pretending to be someone he was in love with when he was a child? You know, I even call myself Phin sometimes. Isn't that pathetic?' Phin nods, then shakes his head, then says, 'Yes. That is pretty fucked up. What are you doing here? What do you want?

That's such bullshit. Come on. You were the one with the big house and the posh school and the bedroom full of nice things. I arrived in your house with nothing. Literally just a bag of clothes. And there you were, Little Lord Fauntleroy, with everything. Everything a child could want. How do you think that made me feel?

And she felt it then, like a needle in her heart, the love her mother always talked about. 'You won't understand how much I love you until you're a mother yourself.

But she felt it now and all the pain in her heart was for her mother, her mother who she knew would be crying and worrying and feeling the meaning of her life slipping away from her. She couldn't bear it. She truly couldn't bear

Os únicos livros ruins são aqueles tão mal escritos que ninguém publica. Qualquer livro publicado vai ser um "livro bom" para alguém.

Noah was born she backed off completely for a while, barely visiting

how accepting children can be of the oddest scenarios. But still, seeing it now, in black and white, it really is quite shocking.

They don't know who the prime minister is; they don't know what day of the week, month or even year it is. They can't quite remember their daughters' names and they certainly can't remember if they had lunch today or what the plan is for supper tonight.

And how had she felt during those first few excruciatingly unfolding hours? What had filled her brain, her heart, to replace all those petty concerns? Terror. Despair. Grief. Horror. Agony. Turmoil. Heartbreak. Fear. All those words, all so melodramatic, yet all so insufficient.

The blame game could be exhausting sometimes. The blame game could make you lose your mind… all the infinitesimal outcomes, each path breaking up into a million other paths every time you heedlessly chose one, taking you on a journey that you'd never find your way back from.

a sea of disembodied thumbs senselessly pressing hearts.

She thinks, You didn't see the look he gave me just now on the stairs. You don't know how he looks at me when you're not in the room; the way his voice sets hard like stone, his eyes bore through me like lasers. You really don't know.

que a vida não é feita só de cinco grandes acontecimentos, mas sim dos momentos que ocorrem entre eles.

She wants to stay in here. It's warm and it's safe. She feels protected from the strangeness of the evening, from the terrible energy in the air.