Gillian Flynn Quotes - Page 2

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

It’s humbling, to become the very thing you once mocked.

Worries find you easily enough without inviting them.

Because isn’t that the point of every relationship: to be known by someone else, to be understood? He gets me. She gets me. Isn’t that the simple magic phrase?

There's no app for a bourbon buzz on a warm day in a cool, dark bar. The world will always want a drink.

Sometimes I think illness sits inside every woman, waiting for the right moment to bloom. I have known so many sick women all my life. Women with chronic pain, with ever-gestating diseases. Women with conditions. Men, sure, they have bone snaps, they have backaches, they have a surgery or two, yank out a tonsil, insert a shiny plastic hip. Women get consumed.

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

There are a million talented writers who are unpublished only because they stop writing when it gets hard.

I had no sympathy for drama queens.

I think there is something very relatable in the idea that you hit a certain age, later in your life, where you realize you have to pick up the rug and see what's underneath it and deal with stuff.

A child weaned on poison considers harm a comfort.

I ached once, hard, like a period typed at the end of a sentence.

Ah, well, being conflicted means you can live a shallow life without copping to be a shallow person.

How do you keep safe when your whole day is as wide and empty as the sky?

She’s easy to like. I’ve never understood why that’s considered a compliment - that just anyone could like you.

Women get consumed. Not surprising, considering the sheer amount of traffic a woman's body experiences. Tampons and speculums. Cocks, fingers, vibrators and more, between the legs, from behind, in the mouth.

I was not a lovable child, and I'd grown into a deeply unlovable adult. Draw a picture of my soul, and it'd be a scribble with fangs.

I have four or five ideas that just keep floating around and I want to kind of just let one - like a beautiful butterfly, let it land somewhere.

It’s a very difficult era in which to be a person, just a real, actual person, instead of a collection of personality traits selected from an endless Automat of characters.

They always call depression the blues, but I would have been happy to waken to a periwinkle outlook. Depression to me is urine yellow, washed out, exhausted miles of weak piss.

People say children from broken homes have it hard, but the children of charmed marriages have their own particular challenges.

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.

Everytime people said I was pretty, I thought of everything ugly swarming beneath my clothes.

People love talking, and I have never been a huge talker. I carry on an inner monologue, but the words often don't reach my lips.

Sometimes if you let people do things to you, you're really doing it to them.