Quotes from Sophie Kinsella

Love is finding one person infinitely fascinating.

You should always be thinking: This is OK…but what else could I be doing?

He feels like fun. He feels like cleverness and irreverence and wit and charm, all packaged up in a long, lean frame.

We've all got to have some kind of failure in life, and I had mine early. I got back on my feet. I learned that failing doesn't mean you are a failure; it just means you're a human being.

I'm sorry, says Linus. Don't be sorry, I say, almost aggressively. You didn't say anything. Which is true. He didn't say anything. He stopped mid-sentence. Except that stopping mid-sentence is the worst thing people can do. It's, like, partially aggressive, because you can't take issue with anything they've said. You have to take issue with what you think they were going to say. Which they then deny.

You get into a relationship. And you know that person has flaws, everyone does … but you can get so used to them that you … you forget. You forget that there's another way.

Family bloody first. I'm not saying Dad was wrong, I'll never say that, but maybe I'm starting to see "family"differently. It's not just the people you share genes with; it's the people you share loyalty and friendship and respect with. It's the people you love.

I think talking to other people can bring its own unhelpful baggage. Sometimes you just need to talk to an entity. The void. Your God.

It doesn't matter," she says, her voice soft. "Don't beat yourself up for not knowing all the answers. You don't always have to know who you are. You don't have to have the big picture, or know where you're heading. Sometimes it's enough just to know what you're going to do next.

He's listening silently to his mother, leaning against the front doorway, his hands shoved in his pockets, his expression distant. Toby could be really good-looking, but he's got one of those beards. There are sexy beards and there are stupid beards, and his is stupid. It's so straggly and unformed, it makes me suck in breath. I mean, just trim it. Shape it. Do something with it….

Becky -- he begins, and there's a tiny intake of breath around the churchyard. Will you-- Yes! Yeee-esssss! I hear the joyful sound ripping through the churchyard before I even realize I've opened my mouth. I'm so charged up with emotion, my voice doesn't even sound like mine. In fact, it sounds more like... Mum. I don't believe it.

Everyone should keep a dream journal, did you know that?

Because the thing about letting people into your heart is, you can just push them out again. Easy.

He's lithe and tanned and taut. But to my eye he's lost something. He has a synthetic quality, like orange soda instead of freshly squeezed juice. It's orangey and bubbly and it quenches your thirst, but it leaves a bitter aftertaste. And it's not good for you.

I'm not quite sure if he's talking to me or to himself, but every word he says feels like a drop of Wise Potion. I want to hear more. I want him to tell me all the answers to life.

Small talk depletes creativity. Social media stifles thought. Even choosing an outfit every morning is needless effort. So, for one week, we will let all that nonsense go. We will engage instead with big talk. Character. Plot.

The whole point about T-shirts is you choose them in the morning according to your mood, like crystals, or aromatherapy oils.

My phone's my life. I can't exist without it. It's a vital organ.

You need some accessories. Some businesswoman-type accessories." "Like what? A Filofax?

I feel an irrational craving to gaze at his familiar face from this place of safety all night. But I can't. And I'm being stupid, because this isn't old Joe, whom I loved and understood. This is new Joe, who is cruel and inexplicable. They only look the same.

Planst grow towards the light. Do people grow towards the light?" Tessa says, in that joking way she has. Professor Russell says mildly "Yes, my dear. I believe we do. We have, of course, many different kinds of light" Professor Russell continues, almost dreamily. "Sometimes our light might be a faith, or an ideology, or even a person, and we grow towards that.

The rational part of my brain understands that everything is random. There are a million possibilities in the universe. Us meeting is just one of those possibilities, and just as meaningless. The thing is, though, I can't imagine a world that didn't bring us together. We were meant to be.

But sometimes it's hard to bear his disappointment at life as well as my own.

This family may be broken. It may be shattered. But it's my broken, shattered family. And I want to be here, I finally admit to myself. To be at the party, even if I'm invisible. This is the last hurrah, even if no one's cheering. I just can't walk away.