No one really knows anyone. That’s amazing, isn’t it? We share everything, but we all have our secret gardens, too. We all have fantasies and fears and fetishes. We all have secrets about ourselves we don’t want to share.

That even now, even after all the years of dreaming, of wanting, she is not Tristan, and she is not Jill, and she is not anyone who can recklessly seize unexpected opportunities.

It’s madness really that society expects a newly bereaved person to jump through so many hoops.

I’m overreacting, probably,” Sophie says. “I just get a little bored with the abused-women-equals-art thing. It just all seems a bit eighties to me. Do you know what I mean?

To want your child to remain innocent whilst toughening up enough to survive This Life is entirely contradictory, but, as far as I can tell, an almost-universal parental desire. It.

You meet people and sometimes they’re more important to you than you are to them. Sometimes you just have to give thanks for all the ways knowing them has changed you, and watch them walk away to pastures new.

La peur est tellement envahissante, tellement omniprésente, qu'elle en devient presque normale. Il n'en demeure pas moins que vivre sous l'emprise de la peur, même quand elle ne vous quitte jamais, est une expérience éprouvante [...].

But do I really want my vagina to heal over through lack of use either?

wierding me out

I stand and grab a hefty bottle of perfume from the bathroom shelf and return to the bedroom door. It’s not much of a weapon, I know, but it’s heavy and square, and hitting someone over the head with a glass brick has got to be better than bitch-slapping them.