Quotes from Liane Moriarty

Jane saw that Madeline's feelings about Jane's baking were similar to Jane's feelings about Madeline's accessories: confused admiration for an exotic behavior.

Samantha: Parents do tend to judge each other. I don't know why. Maybe because none of us really know what we're doing? And I guess that can sometimes lead to conflict. Just not normally on this sort of scale.

Your mind resists death with all its might.

a man who despises himself so much that the only way he can alleviate his feelings of inferiority is by stomping down his wife's personality with a daily stream of nasty jibes.

She felt as though she'd been unforgivably negligent—careless! sloppy!—with the most precious, wonderful gift she'd ever received.

Why weren't they just overcome with joy every time they looked at those kids? Why in the world were they divorcing?

Was she ever grumpy? Did she ever yell? Fall about laughing? Eat too much? Drink too much? Call out for someone to bring her toilet paper? Lose her car keys? Was she ever just a human being?

Abigail is having a 'beautiful experience' with Bonnie at the homeless shelter," Madeline said to Ed. Ed took his pillow off his face. "That's revolting," he said. "I know," said Madeline. This is why she loved him.

Stan Delaney had always known that women had the power to draw blood with their words. It was his mother's favorite hobby: to knife the soft, stupid, defenseless egos of her husband and her son.

But maybe every life looked wonderful if all you saw was the photo albums. People always obediently smiled and tilted their heads when a camera was put in front of them. Perhaps seconds after the shutter clicked, she and Nick sprang apart, avoiding each other's eyes, their smiles replaced by snarls. She

If her mother had been observing this interaction, she'd tell Clementine she was wrong, that she needed to keep talking, to say everything that was on her mind, to communicate, to leave no possibility for misinterpretation. If her father were here, he'd put his finger to his lips and say, "Shh." Clementine settled for two words. "I'm sorry," she said.

She bought raffle tickets for charity, gave money to street performers, and was always sponsoring annoying friends who were running yet another marathon for some worthy cause (even though the true cause was their own fitness).

Ooh, sacrilege!' Amy had said, because her role as the oldest child was to narrate every family argument and use big words the other kids didn't understand, while Brooke, still little and adorable, had burst into inevitable tears, and Logan's face became blank and moronic.

It felt like it was all still there, that time of their lives, somewhere metaphysical, accessible through some magical means other than memory.

Just come back home, Abigail, come back home and stop this. He left us. He left you. You were my reward. Missing out on you was his punishment. How could you choose him?

Alice thought of poor Hillary Clinton. Imagine having the whole world know that your husband had cheated on you in such a messy way. You would have thought being president of the United States should have been a pretty distracting sort of job.

Of course, a minute was enough. Never take your eyes off them. Never look away. It happens so fast. It happens without a sound. All those stories in the news. All those parents. All those mistakes she'd read about. ... Children with stupid, foolish, neglectful parents. Children who died while surrounded by so-called responsible adults. And each time she would pretend to be non-judgmental, but really, deep down she was thinking: Not me. That could never really happen to me.

If parents had children who were good sleepers, they assumed this was due to their good parenting, not good luck. They followed the rules, and the rules had been proven to work. Celeste must therefore not be following the rules. And you could never prove it to them! They would die smug in their beds.

Everyone knew that a stolen kiss was the most erotic thing in the world.

A well-managed breakdown can turn out to be a good thing," he told Yao. "Try to see it as an opportunity. An opportunity to grow and learn about yourself.

It was her only real secret, so it was a pity it wasn't juicier.

You weren't meant to admit, even to yourself, how badly you wanted love. The man was meant to be the icing, not the cake.

You're like a favorite pillow. I have to pack you wherever I go.

Tess is a bit shy," her mother used to tell people in an audible whisper, her hand over her mouth. "Gets it from her father, I'm afraid." Tess had heard the cheerful disrespect in her mother's voice and had come to believe that any form of shyness was wrong- morally wrong, in fact. You should want to go to parties. You should want to be surrounded by people. No wonder she felt so ashamed of her shyness, as if it were an embarrassing physical ailment that needed to be hidden at all costs.