The Guest List

by Lucy Foley

If I didn’t pay attention, one of those currents could grow into a huge riptide, destroying all my careful planning. And here’s another thing I’ve learned—sometimes the smallest currents are the strongest.

Strange how a ripple can turn into a wave. Sometimes all it takes is disruption

life is only a series of days. You can’t control more than a single day. But you can control one of them. Twenty-four hours can be curated. A wedding day is a neat little parcel of time in which I can create something whole and perfect to be cherished for a lifetime, a pearl from a broken necklace.

A nice idea on paper. Hell on earth put into practice

Why would Will keep a friend like Johnno around simply because of a shared past? Unless that past has some sort of hold over him.

Keep your friends close, keep your enemies closer. In a way, both apply here in a way.

I have my own ghosts. I carry them with me wherever I go.

Everyone has their secrets. Some refer to them as "ghosts" or "skeletons." Quite fitting...

A cormorant on a steeple: that’s an ill omen. The devil’s bird, they call it in these parts. The cailleach dhubh, the black hag, the bringer of death.

Bad omens cropping up all over the place in the book. Not a subtle way of setting the tone but it does the job

In my experience those who have the greatest respect for the rules also take the most enjoyment in breaking them.

I've seen this in action on multiple occasions throughout high school, college, work....

behind. I wonder what it would feel like to have the ground suddenly fall away under me, suddenly disappear, so I’d have no choice but to go down with it.

True depression. I feel this pain too, Olivia

I can’t properly feel any good things anymore: like the taste of food, or the sun on my face or a song I like on the radio. Looking out at the sea all I feel is a dull pain, somewhere under my ribs, like an old injury.

I want to cry like a kid as I stumble down to the beach, because it should hurt, my whole body should hurt, but no tears will come—I haven’t been able to make them come for a long time. If I could cry it might all be better, but I can’t. It’s like an ability I’ve lost, like a language I’ve forgotten.