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I understand that in our work, doesn’t matter whether it’s acting or writing, what’s important isn’t fame or glamour, none of the things I used to dream about. It’s the ability to endure. —Anton Chekhov, The Seagull
No one is yours, and you belong to no one. We’re all just fallen foes trying to survive this universe.
“You look like you could be in a movie.” Maleficent, maybe.
Grace is busy sticking her tongue in the right people’s buttholes.
If he calls her baby doll one more time, I am going to break my wineglass and stab his neck with a shard.
Winnifred Ashcroft is the only thing remotely entertaining about this event, and feasting on her self-esteem is tastier than eating any other dish served here tonight.
Humans are notoriously selfish creatures, Winnifred. This is why the Russians invaded Ukraine. Why the Afghans were left to fend for themselves. Why there’s a humanitarian crisis in Yemen, Syria, Sudan, and you don’t even hear about it. Because people forget. They get mad, and move on.”
“Your husband is as unremarkable as my least favorite pair of socks, but that’s not a conversation I’m interested in having now,”
“Outgrew them when I became a widow. Life’s too short to be a well-behaved lady.”
“Are you just going to stand there and let him talk to me like that?” she demands. I smooth out my suit. “I can sit down if you prefer.”
“And obsession”—Arya sinks her upper teeth into her bottom lip—“is a potent poison. It tastes real sweet and can easily be mistaken for love.”
This girl, my dream girl, she was going to come from a big, happy family. We’d spend all our holidays with them. We’d have traditions and matching ugly Christmas sweaters and holidays. It was the dreams that kept me going. Because where there were dreams—there was hope.
Hate and love are the same mistresses under a different mask.’
Letting someone know you have an emotional reaction to them was the worst thing you could do for yourself. Especially if you didn’t trust them with said feelings.
You look rode hard and put up wet.”
“Life is beautiful and wild, and it doesn’t wait for you to decide to participate in it. You need to jump into the water headfirst. And when you do? Make sure to make a splash.”
“Once I make up my mind about a woman, no one can save her. Not even God.”
She is all toffee apples and lazy Tennessee summer nights. She is church bells and sweet tea and Moon Pies.
You need to live a little more for yourself and a little less for everyone else.”
Bumpkin is ten out of ten entertainment.
I expect to see Winnifred, but instead, it is her replacement, who works twice a week when it’s Winnifred’s days off. A girl named Penny. Fuck you, Penny.
Because then you’ll be gone from my life and I’ll stop feeling those butterflies that I get in the pit of my stomach every time you’re around. I don’t want to stop feeling. I haven’t felt in so long, and I think I’ll go mad if I go back to being numb.
“Too bad we’re not measured based on our good times. It’s how we perform in the bad times that makes us who we are.”
My sense of failure as a woman is so immense that I loathe myself in this moment.
“Yes. I suppose they did love each other. We were their safe bets. But they were each other’s safe haven.”
just because something doesn’t work properly, or is rusty—like your heart—doesn’t mean it can’t survive.”
“That’s right, life is a messy business. Living is a lesson in endurance.” Arsène nods. “And endurance is a lesson in humility. The problem with humankind is that everyone wants a simple, comfortable life. But that’s such a terrible existence. How could you ever appreciate the good moments if you haven’t braved the bad ones?
“There, there,” he says. “Everything’ll be all right. Am I doing this okay?”
“My God, Georgie. You’re like a Labrador!” “Damn straight. I’ve always been your favorite bitch!”
“You choose to be mad at her because anger is a great distractor. So useful for masking love. It’s the oldest trick in the book.”
Just because a man is perfect doesn’t mean he is perfect for you.
“I am Mars, and there might be life on it. There could be. Thanks to you. I burn for you, Winnifred. And I’m tired of living in the cold. Come back to New York. Make the place livable. For both of us. Please.”
“Please, Jesus called. He needs his cross back.”
