Quotes from Gillian Flynn

You're here covering the murders, bad girl, Jackie continued. Adora must hate that. Sleeping in her house with your dirty little brain. (...) Course before Adora took it over, we all slept over at Joya's house with our dirty little brains. Same house, different crazy lady running it.

Marian is dead. I couldn't stop. I've lost 12 pounds and am skin and bones. Everyone's been incredibly kind. People can be so wonderful.

Shirtsleeve weather, jacket weather, overcoat weather, parka weather—the Year in Outerwear. For

I know that losing a job is incredibly stressful, and particularly for a man, they say it can be like a death in the family

I think this experience will make him a better person. Or at least a sorrier one.

I worry for a second that she wants to set us up: I am not interested in being set up. I need to be ambushed, caught unawares, like some sort of feral love-jackal. I'm too self-conscious otherwise. I feel myself trying to be charming, and the I realize I'm obviously trying to be charming, and then I try to be even more charming to make up for the fake charm, and then I've basically turned into Liza Minnelli: I'm dancing in tights and sequins, begging you to love me.

She is reading The Martian Chronicles by Ray Bradbury. A sci-fi girl. Abused women like escapism, of course.

It was miserable, wet-bone March and I was lying in bed thinking about killing myself, a hobby of mine. Indulgent afternoon daydreaming: A shotgun, my mouth, a bang and my head jerking once, twice, blood on the wall. Splatter, splatter.

Ser hija única conlleva una responsabilidad injusta; te educas en la certeza de que en realidad no tienes permitido causar desengaños, ni siquiera tienes permitido morir. No tienes sustitutas que puedan reemplazarte gateando por la casa; eres todo lo que hay. Eso te conduce a desesperarte por ser perfecta y también te vuelve ebria de poder. Así se crean los déspotas.

Vickery, a slim fellow in his early fifties, had already sweated through his uniform. His shirt clung to his chest, and his pants puckered out in back where an ass should have been.

Give me a man with a little fight in him, a man who calls me on my bullshit. (But who also kind of likes my bullshit.) And yet: Don't land me in one of those

6-0-0. It felt different. I rarely woke at such a rounded time. I was a man of jagged risings: 8:43, 11:51, 9:26. My life was alarmless.

Es ist ein Unterschied, ob man einen Menschen wirklich liebt oder nur die Idee von ihm.

a finely shaped head.

Sometimes it is all too loud.           T

In truth, I wanted her to read my mind so I didn't have to stoop to the womanly art of articulation.

I've never understood why that's considered a compliment – that just anyone could like you.

You recognize her?" He actually looked stricken. "She wanted to buy a gun.

Die Liebe weckt in dir den Wunsch, ein bessere Mensch zu werden - gut und schön. Aber vielleicht gibt dir die Liebe, die wahre Liebe, auch die Erlaubnis, einfach der Mensch zu sein, der du bist.

I often don't say things out loud, even when I should. I contain and compartmentalize to a disturbing degree: In my belly-basement are hundreds of bottles of

So all these extras, they're just bonus fuck-yous. Amusing booby traps. I love that I am a woman with booby traps.

If ifs and buts were candies and nuts we'd all have a very Merry Christmas, I heard my aunt Diane boom in my head. Those words had been the bane of my childhood, a constant reminder that nothing turned out right, not just for me but for anyone, and that's why someone had invented a saying like that. So we'd all know that we'd never have what we needed.

If I had a dick, I would fuck this peanut butter," deliberately spraying cracker bits toward me. "I think if you had a dick, all sorts of bad things would happen.

It felt almost enjoyable, like gnawing on a cuticle: You know you should stop, that it doesnt really feel as good as you think, but you cant quit grinding it away.