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In a Dark, Dark Wood In a Dark, Dark Wood by Ruth Ware
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In a Dark, Dark Wood Quotes Showing 1-30 of 65
“People don’t change,” Nina said bitterly. “They just get more punctilious about hiding their true selves.”
Ruth Ware, In a Dark, Dark Wood
“It was growing dark, and somehow the shadows made it feel as if all the trees had taken a collective step towards the house, edging in to shut out the sky.”
Ruth Ware, In a Dark, Dark Wood
“I always thought that being self-sufficient was a strength, but now I realize it’s a kind of weakness, too.”
Ruth Ware, In a Dark, Dark Wood
“The night was drawing in, and the house felt more and more like a glass cage, blasting its light blindly out into the dusk, like a lantern in the dark. I imagined a thousand moths circling and shivering, drawn inexorably to its glow, only to perish against the cold inhospitable glass.”
Ruth Ware, In a Dark, Dark Wood
“It's not that Nina doesn't feel stuff. She just deals with it differently than most people. Sarcasm is her defense against life.”
Ruth Ware, In a Dark, Dark Wood
“There was something strangely naked about it, like we were on a stage set, playing our parts to an audience of eyes out there in the wood.”
Ruth Ware, In a Dark, Dark Wood
“You’d think people would be wary of spilling to a writer. You’d think they’d know that we’re essentially birds of carrion, picking over the corpses of dead affairs and forgotten arguments to recycle them in our work—zombie reincarnations of their former selves, stitched into a macabre new patchwork of our own devising. Tom,”
Ruth Ware, In a Dark, Dark Wood
“I hate being driven—driving is like karaoke—your own is epic, other people’s is just embarrassing or alarming.”
Ruth Ware, In a Dark, Dark Wood
“To tell the truth we had a bit of a . . . disagreement, let’s call it. Before I left.” “Oh, right.” I kept my voice neutral. I never know what to say in these situations. I hate people prying into my business, so I assume others will feel the same way. But sometimes they want to spill, it seems, and then you look cold and odd, backing away from their confidences. I try to be completely nonjudgmental—not pushing for secrets, not repelling confessions. And in truth, although part of me really doesn’t want to hear their petty jealousies and weird obsessions, there’s another part of me that wants to egg them on. It’s that part of me that stands there nodding, taking notes, filing it all away.”
Ruth Ware, In a Dark, Dark Wood
“I know him by heart.”
Ruth Ware, In a Dark, Dark Wood
“There are days when I don’t hear a single human voice, apart from the radio, and you know what? I quite like that.”
Ruth Ware, In a Dark, Dark Wood
“there’s one thing I dislike more than being hurt, it’s being seen to be hurt. I’ve”
Ruth Ware, In a Dark, Dark Wood
“There’s a disappointment in the banality of what makes people tick, but at the same time, there’s a kind of fascination at seeing the inner coils and cogs. The”
Ruth Ware, In a Dark, Dark Wood
“Like an idiot I’d taken the bait, exploded on cue. It was done. “I’m”
Ruth Ware, In a Dark, Dark Wood
“There is no gray when you’re young. There’s only goodies and baddies, right and wrong. The rules are very clear—a playground morality of ethical lines drawn out like a netball pitch, with clear fouls and penalties.”
Ruth Ware, In a Dark, Dark Wood
“Somehow the realization stiffened my nerve. We weren’t sixteen anymore. We didn’t have to hang around like there was an invisible umbilical cord tethering us together. We’d gone our separate ways and all survived.”
Ruth Ware, In a Dark, Dark Wood
“So you write plays?” “Yes. I’m always rather jealous of novelists—the way you get to control everything. You don’t have to deal with actors massacring your best lines.”
Ruth Ware, In a Dark, Dark Wood
“There’s a kind of focusing effect that happens when you’re very ill. I saw it with my granddad, when he was slipping away. You stop caring about the big stuff. Your world shrinks down to very small concerns: the way your dressing gown cord presses uncomfortably against your ribs, the pain in your spine, the feel of a hand in yours. It’s that narrowing that enables you to cope, I suppose. The wider world stops mattering. And as you grow more and more ill, your world shrinks further, until the only thing that matters is just to keep on breathing.”
Ruth Ware, In a Dark, Dark Wood
“Well there's a vacancy. We're one down."
"What?"
"Melanie, she's gone. The landline's down and it was the last straw."
"Christ, you're kidding? It's like Agatha effing Christie and the Ten Little Eskimos."
"Indians."
"What?"
"Ten Little Indians. In the book."
"It was Eskimos."
"It bloody wasn't. " I sat down on the bed. "It was the N word, actually, if you're going for the original, then Indians, then soldiers when they decided that offing ethnic minorities was maybe a bit strange. It was never Eskimos."
"Well, whatever." Nina dismissed the Eskimos with a wave of her hand. "Is there any coffee down there?”
Ruth Ware, In a Dark, Dark Wood
“have not spoken to him for ten years, but I thought of him every single day.”
Ruth Ware, In a Dark, Dark Wood
“The brain doesn’t remember well. It tells stories. It fills in the gaps, and implants those fantasies as memories. I have to try to get the facts . . . But I don’t know if I’m remembering what happened—or what I want to have happened. I am a writer. I’m a professional liar. It’s hard to know when to stop, you know? You see a gap in the narrative, you want to fill it with a reason, a motive, a plausible explanation. And the harder I push, the more the facts dissolve beneath my fingers . . .”
Ruth Ware, In a Dark, Dark Wood
“It was... I don't know. I don't know how to put it. It was pride, I think. A kind of disbelief at my own stupidity. The thought that I'd loved him so much, and had been so mistaken. How could I? How could I have been so incredibly, unbelievably wrong?”
Ruth Ware, In a Dark, Dark Wood
“If there's one thing I dislike more than being hurt, it's being seen to be hurt.”
Ruth Ware, In a Dark, Dark Wood
“breath”
Ruth Ware, In a Dark, Dark Wood
“In a dark, dark wood there was a dark, dark house; And in the dark, dark house there was a dark, dark room; And in the dark, dark room there was a dark, dark cupboard; And in the dark, dark cupboard there was . . . a skeleton! —traditional Halloween tale”
Ruth Ware, In a Dark, Dark Wood
“He was a figment of imagination. A false memory, implanted by my own hopes.”
Ruth Ware, In a Dark, Dark Wood
“there was genuine pity in her face, but also a kind of glee, the sort you see sometimes when teens are interviewed about the tragic death of a friend. The sadness is there, and it's real, but there's an underlying thrill at the drama of it all, the realness of it all.”
Ruth Ware, In a Dark, Dark Wood
“So having a routine is important. It gives you something to hang on to, something to differentiate the weekdays from the weekends. My day starts like this. At”
Ruth Ware, In a Dark, Dark Wood
“There are no other runners in my family Dash or not that I know of – but my grandmother was a walker. She said that when she was a girl and in a rage with a friend, she used to write her friends name on the soles of her feet in shock, and walk until then he was gone. She said by the time the truck was one away, resentment what is seated, too.”
Ruth Ware, In a Dark, Dark Wood
“Clare watched them from the far sofa, and I found myself watching her, remembering how she loved to observe, how she used to throw a remark out, like a pebble into a pond, and then back quietly away to watch the ripples as people scrapped it out. It was not an endearing habit, but it was one I could not condemn. I understood it too well. I, too, am happier watching than being watched.”
Ruth Ware, In a Dark, Dark Wood

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