Quotes from Gillian Flynn

I was pretending, the way I often did, pretending to have a personality. I can't help it, it's what I've always done: The way some women change fashion regularly, I change personalities. What persona feels good, what's coveted, what's au courant? I think most people do this, they just don't ad mit, or else they settle on one persona because they're too lazy or stupid to pull off a switch.

It's a very difficult era in which to be a person, just a real, actual person, instead of a collection of personality traits selected from an endless Automat of characters. And

If you couldn't find something in thirty seconds, you were losing money, his father always said. Return phone calls immediately was another rule Clay had been taught to obey.

He promised to take care of me, and yet I feel afraid. I feel like something is going wrong, very wrong, and that it will get even worse. 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 river, if necessary. I don't feel real anymore. I feel like I could disappear.

Desi rarely says jackfuck or shitbag; he says swine, which sounds more poisonous on his lips.

You are turning me into what I never have been and never wanted to be, a nag, because you are not living up to your end of a very basic contract. Don't do that, it's not okay to do.

At that exact moment, 6-0-0, the sun climbed over the skyline of oaks, revealing its full summer angry-god self. Its reflection flared across the river toward our house, a long, blaring finger aimed at me through our frail bedroom curtains. Accusing: You have been seen. You will be seen.

We are all working from the same dog-eared script.

Our kind of love can go into remission, but it's always waiting to return. Like the world's sweetest cancer.

We Got Llamas!" Odd words to see in neon.

I was a man of jagged risings

they all offer me recipes for "cheap and easy eats" that usually involve a casserole made from canned soup, butter, and a snack chip.

She simply makes things a reality by assuming they are such.

Sleep is like a cat: It only comes to you if you ignore it. I

now her stomach knotted as she remembered the Free-Lunch kids and her patronizing smiles toward them as they presented their dog-eared cards, and the steamy cafeteria ladies would call it out: Free Lunch! And the boy next to her, buzz-haired and confident, would whisper inanely: There's no such thing as a free lunch. And she'd feel sorry for the kids, but not in a way that made her want to help, just in a way that made her not want to look at them anymore.

I just want to live until I can't anymore.

Looking at my smarmy grin, my hooded eyes, I thought, I would hate this guy.

Nick is like a good stiff drink: He gives everything the correct perspective.

I was lying in bed thinking of killing myself, a hobby of mine.

My mother breezed in, smelling like bright blue water. She looked more comfortable in the Nash house than Mrs. Nash did. It was a natural gift for Adora, making other women feel incidental.

I've basically turned into Liza Minnelli: I'm dancing in tights and sequins, begging you to love me.

He is learning to love me unconditionally, under all my conditions. I think we are finally on our way to happiness. I have finally figured it out.

I have a meanness inside me, real as an organ.

Amy knew that was what I had loved most about us back when I loved us: not the big moments, not the Romantic with capital-R moments, but our secret inside jokes.