For You and Only You (You, #4)

by Caroline Kepnes

And then Covid hit, and the CD Fucking C said what I’ve known for years: People are toxic, they can kill you, so keep your distance.

they say this about people, that we criticize in others what we like least about ourselves.

Real love is quiet. A whisper between two people.

We all grab on to clichés as we fall in love with someone new.

It’s better to be in flow than it is to be validated for evidence that you were once in flow.

She looks around the room. Wild-eyed. “I’m a widow,” she says, waving at REDACTED LITERARY BASEBALL FANATIC—he’s here!—and rubbing her upturned nose. “I’m Emily, Alone at thirty-five and I forgot to put out the good hand towels and do I throw out Glenn’s coconut water or do I save it because other people like coconut water? His parents didn’t invite me to stay in their house when I was out there for the funeral, and I left my favorite sweater in the shitty hotel, and I called the hotel, but I hung up when they answered because it’s a sweater, right? It’s meaningless and I’m a widow and shouldn’t I be sobbing about my dead husband?”

Words are worse than sticks and stones. They penetrate us without drawing blood.

‘A calm and modest life brings more happiness than the pursuit of success combined with constant restlessness.’ ”