Quotes About Pressure

Amy made me believe I was exceptional, that I was up to her level of play. That was both our making and undoing Because I couldn't handle the demands of greatness. I began craving ease and averageness.

Ever been in a spelling bee as a kid? That snowy second after the announcement of the word as you sift your brain to see if you can spell it? It was like that, the blank panic.

Nick and I, we sometimes laugh, laugh out loud, at the horrible things women make their husbands do to prove their love. The pointless tasks, the myriad sacrifices, the endless small surrenders. We call these men the dancing monkeys.

being an only child—you grow up knowing you aren't allowed to disappoint, you're not even allowed to die. There isn't a replacement toddling around; you're it. It makes you desperate to be flawless, and it also makes you drunk with the power. In such ways are despots made.

Libby must have marinated in anxious stomach acid for nine months, soaking up all that worry.

But you should never put a fifteen-year-old on a witness stand in a courtroom filled with a bunch of people he knows and expect a lot of tears.

And the Cool Girls are even more pathetic: They're not even pretending to be the woman they want to be, they're pretending to be the woman a man wants them to be.

Being the cool girl means I am a hot, brilliant, funny woman who adores football, poker, dirty jokes and burping, who plays video games, drinks cheap beer, loves threesomes and anal sex and jams hot dogs and hamburgers into her mouth like she's hosting the world's biggest culinary gang bang while somehow maintaining a size 2. Men actually think this girl exists. Maybe they're fooled because so many women are willing to pretend to be this girl.

I don't mind, I'm the Cool Girl. Men actually think this girl exists. Maybe they're fooled because so many women are willing to pretend to be this girl.

You're a beautiful woman, and it's difficult for beautiful women to disappear.

Just Ã¢â'¬Â¦ No, Amy. Not right now. I can't take one more bit of stress. I can't handle one more thing to worry about. I am cracking under the pressure. I will snap." For once I know he's telling the truth.

Three girls until, at last, their baby boy. As I sipped my bourbon and cracked peanuts, I pondered the growing desperation the Nashes must have felt each time a child popped out without a penis.

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

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.

I'd been careful to be low-maintenance, easygoing, cheerful, all those things people want women to be.

There is an unfair responsibility that comes with being an only child—you grow up knowing you aren't allowed to disappoint, you're not even

I know, I know, 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...

the Cool Girl. Men always say that as the defining compliment, don't they? She's a cool girl.

Wear this, don't wear that. Do this chore now and do this chore when you get the chance and by that I mean now. And definitely, definitely, give up the things you love for me, so I will have proof that you love me best.

There is an unfair responsibility that comes with being an only child—you grow up knowing you aren't allowed to disappoint, you're not even allowed to die. There isn't a replacement toddling around; you're it. It makes you desperate to be flawless, and it also makes you drunk with the power. In such ways are despots made.

four kids clambering up her, the smile was bigger, but hassled, and she was always leaning away from one of us. I picture her as constantly under siege by her children.

The pressure on her arm brought Etta back onto the uncomfortable wooden pew. But she didn't want to stay there, so she climbed back out the window, through the glass eyes of the seven-foot Good Shepherd, and started again the futile weaving of invisible ifs and slippery mights into an equally unattainable past.

A pedestal is as much a prison as any small, confined space.

Bay Area Weekly just named me Silicon Valley's Number One Spoiled Brat. Remember, we're talking about California. Think of all the other spoiled brats I had to beat out for that title. Vlad always says I should aim for the best.