I was supposed to write a romantic comedy, but my characters broke up.

Polly was pretty good at dieting, all right, but she was beginning to wonder whether you ever lost the parts of your self that you wanted to lose.

What made you feel that stomach-churning agony for one person and not another? If Bridget were God, she would have made it against the law for you to feel that way about someone without them having to feel it for you right back.

Everything I ever said to you was true and is true.

Sometimes he felt sure that the key to happiness was a poor memory.

Marnie loved her better and more honestly than anyone else in the world, with the possible exception of her mother, who loved her intensely if not honestly.

You are not going to die, I know I said I'd let you, but I can't.