Gillian Flynn Quotes

I think maybe, when I was very young, I witnessed a chaste cheek kiss between the two when it was impossible to avoid. Christmas, birthdays. Dry lips. On their best married days, their communications were entirely transactional: 'We're out of milk again.' (I'll get some today.) 'I need this ironed properly.' (I'll do that today.) 'How hard is it to buy milk?' (Silence.) 'You forgot to call the plumber.' (Sigh.) 'Goddammit, put on your coat, right now, and go out and get some goddamn milk. Now.' These messages and orders brought to you by my father, a mid-level phonecompany manager who treated my mother at best like an incompetent employee.

I am overachieving at aimlessness, I am a type-A, alpha-girl lollygagger, the leader of a gang of heartbroken kids, running wild across this lonely strip of amusements, each of us smarting from the betrayals of a loved one.

Can you imagine, finally showing your true self to your spouse, your soul mate, and having him not like you?

Blame the economy, blame bad luck, blame my parents, blame your parents, blame the Internet, blame people who use the Internet.

My dad had limitations. That's what my good-hearted mom always told us. He had limitations, but he meant no harm. It was kind of her to say, but he did do harm.

There's a difference between really loving someone and loving the idea of her.

I was raised feral, and I mostly stayed that way.

Compromise, communicate, and never go to bed angry - the three pieces of advice gifted and regifted to all newlyweds.

So are there any asshole guys here I can start dating?' she says. 'That's, like, my pattern.

I didn't think past the first step of anything, that was the key. I drank a Coke and didn't worry about how to recycle the can or about the acid puddling in my belly, acid so powerful it could strip clean a penny. We went to a dumb movie and I didn't worry about the offensive sexism or the lack of minorities in meaningful roles. I didn't even worry about anything that came next. Nothing had consequence, I was living in the moment, and I could feel myself getting shallower and dumber. But also happy.

Sometimes I think I won't ever feel safe until I can count my last days on one hand.

Natalie was buried in the family plot, next to a gravestone that already bore her parents' names. I know the wisdom, that no parents should see their child die, that such an event is like nature spun backward. But it's the only way to truly keep your child. Kid grow up, they forge more potent allegiances. They find a spouse or a lover. They will not be buried with you. The Keenes, however, will remain the purest form of family. Underground.

How confusing to live in the shadow of a shadow.

what are you thinking, Amy? How are you feeling? Who are you? What have we ddone to each other? What will we do?

Things might not be great, but things would be okay.

There will be days you wish you’d never done it. And thosewill be the good times, when it’s only days of regret and notmonths.

They thought more before nine a.m. than most people thought all month. I remember once declining cherry pie at dinner, and Rand cocked his head and said, 'Ahh! Iconoclast. Disdains the easy, symbolic patriotism.' And when I tried to laugh it off and said, well, I didn't like cherry cobbler either, Marybeth touched Rand's arm: 'Because of the divorce. All those comfort foods, the desserts a family eats together, those are just bad memories for Nick.' It was silly but incredibly sweet, these people spending so much energy trying to figure me out. The answer: I don't like cherries.

We will have a happy marriage if it kills him.

I still believed he'd love me again somehow, love me that intense, thick way he did, the way that made everything good.

Amy! My God! My God! My darling!' and buried my face in her neck, my arms wrapped tight around her, and let the cameras get their fifteen seconds, and I whispered deep inside her ear, 'You fucking bitch.

Writers (my kind of writers: aspiring novelists, ruminative thinkers, people whose brains don't work quick enough to blog or link or tweet, basically old, stubborn blowhards) were through. We were like women's hat makers or buggy-whip manufacturers: Our time was done.

A child weaned on poison considers harm a comfort.

It had gotten to the point where it seemed like nothing matters, because I’m not a real person and neither is anyone else.

Don't fret, we'll sort this out: the true and the not true and the might as well be true.

I know a little bit about trying to do the right thing and fucking up completely." I added."You talking about mom?" Ben said"I was talking about me.""You could have been talking about all of us. Ben pressed his hand against the glass and my brother and I matched palms.

She is an incredibly intelligent idiot