Sarah Goodwin > Sarah's Quotes

“McCandless’s contrived asceticism and a pseudoliterary stance compound rather than reduce the fault. . . . McCandless’s postcards, notes, and journals . . . read like the work of an above average, somewhat histrionic high school kid—or am I missing something?”
― Jon Krakauer, Into the Wild

“we’ll talk about another. Are we okay?” “I’m not old enough for this!” Dev said, his voice sharp. “I’m not old enough to end up here. I’m not old enough to test for AIDS, I’m not, I’m not—” “The hell you’re not!” Joe hissed, because the boy’s voice was rising and breaking. “You’re old enough to have sex, you’re old enough to think about this. Yeah, I know—you used to be able to fuck and all you had to worry about was crabs or knocking a girl up. We can’t do that anymore, and we can’t go back. If you can’t look yourself in the mirror and say ‘I’m gonna get laid tonight, and I need some fucking condoms’, you’re not old enough to do it. But once you start putting your peter some place besides your pants, you’ve got to cowboy up, do you hear me?”
― Amy Lane, Sidecar

“If you swapped out all my Jessicas for Johns, do you know what you'd get? Fiction. Just fiction. Ready and willing to be read by anyone, but somehow by being a woman who writes about women, I've eliminated half the Earth's population from my potential readers, and you know what? I don't feel ashamed of that. I feel pissed.”
― Emily Henry, Beach Read

“Then I noticed the top envelope had my name on it. My real name, not Judith Broch but Julie Pike.

My mother had long since stopped using that name for me. She’d lived under an assumed name herself. The only person who’d be writing to me with that name, at that address was him. Or more likely, someone working for him.

Raymond Wayfield; serial rapist and murderer. My father.

I stared at that letter for a long time. The light shifted in the flat as cars went by outside. Blue whirling lights and sirens went past, setting off a series of thumps and a baby’s cries in the flat above. Still I couldn’t bring myself to reach out and open that envelope. As if by doing so I’d be letting that man back into my life. Into my reality.

As if he’d ever left.”
― Sarah Goodwin, The Butcher's Daughter