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It wasn’t impossible; on a day when you set out just to shout at someone—read them the riot act a little, no more than that—and she ended up making you kill her, anything was possible.
Not-There was her private name for God just lately. Earlier in the fall it had been The Great Maybe. During the summer, it had been The Omnipotent Could-Be.
Women buy stuff at sales for the same reason men climb mountains—because they’re there.
if you were seeing a lot of horseshit, there had to be a pony in the vicinity.
When dawn was still long hours away, bad thoughts took on flesh and began to walk. In the middle of the night thoughts became zombies.
“I’m going to tell you what my father told me, Frank—there’s no such thing as an unloaded gun.
The family that slays together stays together, Junior thought. At least for the time being.
All she could say with complete certainty (and she said it only to herself) was that she watched her town lose its mind, and afterward she would never be the same person.
When you’re feeling it, lousy breaks disappear. Strife becomes your friend. Bad luck turns hit-the-Megabucks good. You do not accept these things with gratitude (an emotion reserved for wimps and losers, in Big Jim Rennie’s opinion) but as your due.
She is realizing for the first time that once the beast is out of its cage, it could bite anyone, anywhere,
“Enough with the Freddy Fuckaround.
It was amazing, really, how well disappointment and lack of surprise complimented each other; they were like the Olsen Twins of emotion.
