Don’t call me Alessandro, or this could get ugly. Oh, then may I call you Alice?
I say, thirteen is too many dogs for good mental health. Five is pretty much the limit. More than five dogs and you forfeit your right to call yourself entirely sane. Even if the dogs are small.
Frankie appreciated both the accolades and the rejections equally, because both meant she’d had an impact. She wasn’t a person who needed to be liked so much as she was a person who liked to be notorious.
It shattered something inside me that hadn’t been broken before.
See the world as it is, not as you wish it would be.
I looked at her. my lovely, tall mother with her pretty coil of hair and her hard, bitter mouth. Her veins were never open. Her heart never leapt out to flop helplessly on the lawn. She never melted into puddles. She was normal. Always. At any cost.
Maybe a friend is someone who wants your updates. Even if they’re boring. Or sad. Or annoyingly cutesy. A friend says “Sign me up for your boring crap, yes indeed”-because he likes you anyways. He’ll tolerate your junk.
She had been nobody and he had been golden.
Sometimes it’s a good idea to think about what you want from a situation, and try to get it, rather than just blurt out the first thing that comes into your head.
And this is my life, getting dumped with no warning. Or liking people who don’t like me back, or who don’t like me enough, or not as much as they like someone else.
I swear, I have no understanding of other human beings.
My problem is I can think whatever I think – girl power, solidarity, Gloria Steinem rah rah rah – but I still feel the way I feel. Which is jealous. And pissy about little things.
If those are your friends, you’ve got no need for enemies.
8. Fact: It is a bad idea to date a known cheater, because even if he doesn’t cheat on you, you will always know he’s capable of it and will never fully trust him. Then you will become even more insecure and neurotic than you already are.
I don’t know if there is a one for me. I think I might like variety.
A tomato may be a fruit, but it is a singular fruit. A savory fruit. A fruit that has ambitions far beyond the ambitions of other fruits.
They do sometimes go crazy, these people, because the world is telling them not to want the things they want. It can seem saner to give up-But then one goes insane from giving up.
You can’t have an ending. It’s impossible. Because unlike in the movies, life goes on. You’re never at the end until you die.
I sit around too much, waiting for other people to do stuff and angsting about stuff they’ve done, without doing anything myself.
Someone once wrote that a novel should deliver a series of small astonishments. I get the same thing spending an hour with you.