Quotes About Deception

I'm so much happier now that I'm dead. Technically missing. Soon to be presumed dead. Gone. And my lazy lying shitting oblivious husband will go to prison for my murder. Nick Dunne took my pride and my dignity and my hope and my money. He took and took from me until I no longer existed. That's murder. Let the punishment fit the crime.

Nick loved me. A six-o kind of love: He looooooved me. But he didn't love me, me. Nick loved a girl who doesn't exist. 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.

you'd literally lie, cheat, and steal -hell, kill- to convince people you are a good guy

You're a man who cheats on his wife, you can't ever undo that.

I have a mistress. Now is the part where I have to tell you I have a mistress and you stop liking me. If you liked me to begin with. I have a pretty, young, very young mistress, and her name is Andie.

She'd used the treasure hunt to take me on a tour of all my infidelities.

This was my eleventh lie.

And I don't know, you're at that age, if a bunch of grownups are telling you something or encouraging you, it just … it started to feel real. That Ben had molested me, because otherwise, why were all these adults trying to get me to say he had? And my parents would be all stern: It's OK to tell the truth. It's OK to tell the truth. And so you told the lie that they thought was the truth.

I changed my name for that piece of shit. Historical records have been altered—Amy Elliott to Amy Dunne—like it's nothing. No, he does not get to win.

It was my fifth lie to the police. I was just starting.

Amy's story could have gone a million other ways, but she met me, and bad things happened.

He took away chunks of me with blasé swipes: my independence, my pride, my esteem. I gave, and he took and took. He Giving Treed me out of existence. That whore, he picked that little whore over me. He killed my soul, which should be a crime.

when he gets bored with this dumb twat, he'll just find another girl who is pretending to be that girl, and he'll never have to do anything hard in his life.

What have we done to eachother?

I had my share of fun,' I said. 'Looks and money get you a long way in Wind Gap.' 'And brains?' 'Brains you hide.

Sick and sicker and sickest. What was real and what was fake? Was Amma really sick and needing my mother's medicine, or was the medicine what was making Amma sick? Did her blue pill make me vomit, or did it keep me from getting more ill than I'd have been without it?

She was one of those middle-aged women who thought they were fooling people.

I started on the opening page of my own book. 'I am a cheating, weak-spined, women-fearing coward, and i am the hero of your story. Because the woman I cheated on - my wife, Amy Elliott Dunne - is a sociopath and a murderer.' Yes. I'd read that.

Patty knew that feeling, a dream hangover, like when she jumped up from a panicky sleep at 2 in the morning and tried to talk herself into thinking the farm was OK, that this year would pick up, and then felt all the sicker when she woke up to the alarm a few hours later, guilty and duped. It was suprising that you could spend hours in the middle of the night pretending things were OK, and know in thirty seconds of daylight that that simply wasn't so.' -Dark Places

Patty knew that feeling, a dream hangover, like when she jumped up from a panicky sleep at 2 in the morning and tried to talk herself into thinking the farm was OK, that this year would pick up, and then felt all the sicker when she woke up to the alarm a few hours later, guilty and duped. It was surprising that you could spend hours in the middle of the night pretending things were OK, and know in thirty seconds of daylight that that simply wasn't so.

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

The bigger the lie, the more they believe it.

I hated him for not knowing it has to end, for truly believing he had married this creature, this figment of the imagination of a million masturbatory men, semen-fingered and self-satisfied. He truly seemed astonished when I asked him to listen to me. He couldn't believe I didn't love wax-stripping my pussy raw and blowing him on request.

The waitress, a plain brunette disguised as a pretty brunette...