Quotes from Liane Moriarty

She didn't believe in alternate realities. She believed in the transcendent power of love, memory and imagination. 'Anything is possible.

Grandmothers died. It was to be expected. You weren't even allowed to be that upset about it. Please don't let Frannie have died. Please don't let anyone have died. "Nobody else in our family will

I'm not going to stop worrying. I like worrying. I come from a long line of worriers. It's in my blood. I just want you to make it stop hurting, please, Dr. Hodges.

That's my great-granddaughter you just heard. Gets all her talent from me!" He has appropriated my family in typical Xavier fashion. They don't seem to mind.

There would be no point asking Sarah because she was incapable of making a decision. If Cecilia asked her if she wanted tea or coffee, she would sit for a full minute, her forehead furrowed as she agonized over the pros and cons of each beverage, before finally saying, "Coffee! No, wait, tea!" A decision like this one would give her a seizure.

On my way. Nearly there! These were their last foolish (and often misspelled) words. Madeline

As soon as he woke he'd be desperate to give Celeste his gift. He loved giving presents. The first time she knew she wanted to marry him was when she saw the anticipation on his face, watching his mother open a birthday present he'd bought for her. "Do you like it?" he'd burst out as soon she tore the paper, and his family had all laughed at him for sounding like a big kid.

fucked her when she was too out of it to consent, but that was before consent got fashionable. Those kinds of incidents used to be considered "funny." Even "hilarious." The worse you felt, the louder you laughed. The laughter was necessary because it put you back in charge. You didn't remember, so you created a memory you hoped was the truth.

They smiled at each other. Jane looked away. She picked up her mug of tea and took a sip even though it was all gone. The doorbell rang. "That will be Celeste," said Madeline. Great, thought Jane, continuing to pretend-sip her empty mug of tea. Now I'll be in the presence of both great love and great beauty.

Neither of us is going to jail, you ninny. One day we'll be sweet little old ladies and we'll probably forget that it didn't happen the way we said it did.' 'I can't imagine us as sweet little old ladies.' 'It does seem unlikely.

Perhaps we all need a good thump on the head from time to time?

She was twenty-five before it occurred to her that she could have insulted him back, but the rule of life was that the boys got to decide which girls were pretty; it didn't really matter how ugly they were themselves.)

But then there were the other times, unexpected quiet moments, where they'd catch each other's eyes, and all the years of hurt and joy, bad times and good times, seemed to fuse into a feeling that she knew was so much stronger, more complex and real, than any of those fledgling feelings for Dominick, or even the love she'd first felt for Nick in those early years.

But Nick was Nick. He knew what she meant when she said, "Oh my dosh." They could look at an old photo together and travel back in time to the same place; they could begin a million conversations with "Do you remember when . . .";

Well, if it was a diary, Joy certainly would not read it. Absolutely not. That sort of gross invasion of privacy was only appropriate for one's own children.

My husband hits me, Renata. Never on the face of course. He's far too classy for that. Does yours hit you?

Looking after the baby is like taking some sort of terrifying, never-ending practical exam. All she does is respond to what the baby is doing. Feed baby. Change baby. Wash baby. Keep baby alive. Prepare for when baby wakes again.

They would think she was savoring the taste (blueberries, cinnamon, cream—excellent), but she was actually savoring the whole morning, trying to catch it, pin it down, keep it safe before all those precious moments became yet another memory.

She had not realized that grief was so physical. Before Zach died, she thought grief happened in your head. She didn't know that your whole body ached with it, that it screwed up your digestive system, your menstrual cycle, your sleep patterns, your skin. You wouldn't wish it on your worst enemy.

man who designs neon signs for a living and whose most passionate interest is cars? Before I met Ben, I was one of those girls who was deliberately, prettily

Sometimes there are no signs. That's what he told the newly grieving parents at the Tuesday night group. He told them there was research to suggest that teenage suicide was often the consequence of an impulsive decision.

Now it was hard to remember ever feeling innocent and audacious enough to dream of a certain type of life, as if you got to choose how things turned out.

third child in that suburban dream of his, now at the front

Her name was Susi, which seemed to indicate a worrying lack of judgment. Why didn't she call herself Susan? "Susi" sounded like a pole dancer. The other problem with Susi was that she appeared to be about twelve years old, and quite naturally, being twelve, she didn't know how to apply eyeliner properly. It was