...the temptation that is so hard to resist—the temptation to look into another man's hell.
Death isn't my boyfriend yet. We're just friends. Maybe friends with benefits.
How inadequate are the expressions our faces offer us.
If a man stands alone in the forest and there's not a single person or living creature around him, is it still his fault?
I have a thousand tricks for not being, I'm a world champion at not being...
That's how families are. One minute they hug you, the next they beat the crap out of you with a belt, and it's all from love.
A woman who claimed to want only the best for me, and yet she gave birth to me! I mean, think about how many trials and prisons and investigations and crime series there are because of murder, but I've yet to hear a single case involving birth! Nothing about premeditated birth, negligent birth, accidental birth, not even incitement to birth!
...the best way to be appreciated somewhere is to not be there...
"I want you to look at me," he spurted. "I want you to see me, really see me, and then afterward tell me."
"Tell you what?"
"What you saw."
Да и что такое любовь, думает она, как не великая иллюзия? Мы влюбляемся в образ, а не в настоящего человека.