Quotes from Gillian Flynn

Cautious, the way Ben always was. At a family party, on the last day of school, he looked the same, a kid who lived permanently in the library - waiting to be shushed.

No one saves an e-mail, because it's so inherently impersonal. I worry about posterity in general. All the great love letters – from Simone de Beauvoir to Sartre, from Samuel Clemens to his wife, Olivia – I don't know, I always think about what will be lost—

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.

too much, because it feels so good

I don't want her to kill you. I mean, someday you burn her grilled cheese, and the next thing you know, my phone's ringing and you've taken an awful fall from the roof or some shit. Leave.

No soy un mentiroso del deslumbrante calibre de Amy, pero no se me da mal cuando es necesario.

Todos los tipos que había allí tenían el mismo aspecto, como si sus vidas fueran tan duras que habían borrado sus rasgos individuales

She was] sitting across from us, her legs pressed together to one side, like a slash mark. Pretty/professional.

The house was like something from a catalog, and there were two BMWs in the driveway and these were not people who

Di solito non ho la sensazione di esistere. Ho l'impressione che una folata di vento possa spazzarmi via, facendomi scomparire per sempre, senza lasciare di me neppure un frammento di unghia. In certi giorni il pensiero mi pare rassicurante, in certi altri mi raggela. La sensazione di inconsistenza deriva, suppongo, dal fatto che so così poco del mio passato, o se non altro questa è la conclusione a cui arrivati gli strizzacervelli all'ospedale.

Betsy's arm shot out, and my cheek suddenly stung. "What the hell?" I said, trying to figure out what had happened. A cherry-red jellybean was in my lap. I held it up. "Every time you tense up, every time you turn that handsome face into an undertaker's mask, I am going to hit you with a jellybean," Betsy explained, as if the whole thing were quite reasonable.

It seemed like a joke, how much all these dudes looked alike, like living was so hard it just erased your features, rubbed out anything distinctive.

Your grandparents always told me, Make a useful life. I don't feel I've really done that, but I can make a useful death... - My life has been determined so much by accidents, it seems nice that now an accident on purpose will make things right again. A happy accident.

What have we done to each other? What will we do?

she smoked so much she smelled like tobacco even after a shower, like if she slit her skin, menthol vapor would ooze out. He'd come to like it, it smelled like comfort and home to him, the way warm bread might to someone else.

The Devil lurked nearby in our Kansas town, an evil that was as natural and physical as a hillside.

I've thought about you a lot over these years, been wondering about you. That's what you do in here … think and wonder. Every once in a while someone'll write me about you. But it's not the same.

Sei pazza a pensare quel che stai pensando. Sei pazza a non pensarlo.

We climb three flights of warped stairs and walk into a whoosh of body heat and

The Mexicans get the shittiest, most dangerous jobs, and the whites still complain.

I PUT ON a skirt and blouse for the meeting, feeling dwarfy, my grown-up, big-girl clothes never quite fitting. I'm barely five foot—four foot, ten inches in truth, but I round up. Sue me. I'm thirty-one, but people tend to talk to me in singsong, like they want to give me fingerpaints.

Amma and I were sick just like Marian. It had to be made that obvious to me before I finally understood—nearly twenty years too late.

I'd found it strange and kind of cute, Amy's guilty pleasures, those cheesy true-crime books I'd discovered here and there around our house. I thought maybe she was loosening up, allowing herself some beach reading. Nope. She was just studying.

This is the hardest part: waiting for stupid people to figure things out. I