Half an ear cocked, something in me, all night, every night, is waiting for you to come home.
Lionel ShriverI was mortified by the prospect of becoming hopelessly trapped in someone else's story.
Lionel ShriverThe pediatrician must have thought me one of those neurotic mothers who craved distinction for her child but who in our civilization's latter-day degeneracy could only conceive of the exceptional in terms of deficiency or affliction.
Lionel Shriver