"Marian Keyes"の名言

Failed relationships can be described as so much wasted make-up.

It was ironic, really - you want to die because you can't be bothered to go on living - but then you're expected to get all energetic and move furniture and stand on chairs and hoist ropes and do complicated knots and attach things to other things and kick stools from under you and mess around with hot baths and razor blades and extension cords and electrical appliances and weedkiller. Suicide was a complicated, demanding business, often involving visits to hardware shops. And if you've managed to drag yourself from the bed and go down the road to the garden center or the drug store, by then the worst is over. At that point you might as well just go to work.

What doesn't kill us makes us funnier.

when happiness makes a guest appearance in one's life,it's important to make the most of it.It may not stay around for long and when it has gone wouldn't it be terrible to think that all the time one could have been happy was wasted worrying when the happiness would be taken away.

Devereaux is going with our pitch.” “Hey, that’s just great,” I said superperkily. “Wendell’s or mine?” “Yours.” “But you want to fire me. So fire me.” “We can’t fire you. They loved you. The head guy, Leonard Daly, thought you were, I quote, ‘a great kid, very courageous’ and a natural to do a whispering campaign. He said you had believability.” “That’s too bad.” “Why? You’re not quitting!” I thought about it. “Not if you don’t want me to. Do you?” Go on, say it. 298 ♥elavanilla♥ “No.” “No what?” “No, we don’t want you to quit.” “Ten grand more, two assistants, and charcoal suits. Take it or leave it.” Ariella swallowed. “Okay to the money, okay to the assistants, but I can’t green-light charcoal suits. Formula Twelve is Brazilian, we need carnival colors.” “Charcoal suits or I’m gone.” “Orange.” “Charcoal.” “Orange.” “Charcoal.” “Okay, charcoal.” It was an interesting lesson in power. The only time you truly have it is when you genuinely don’t care whether you have it or not. “Right,” I said. “I’m giving myself the rest of the day off.

Relationship gurus always said that an attraction based on friendship and mutual respect was far more likely to stay the course - and the bastards were right.

Failed relationships can be described as so much wasted makeup. Forget the laughs, forget the fights, forget the sex, forget the jealousy. But take off your hat and observe a moment's silence for the legions of unknown tubes of foundation, mascara, eyeliner, blusher and lipstick who died that it might all have been possible. But who died in vain.

When I opened my case in the hotel, he gestured excitedly at my snakeskin sandals, turquoise suede wedges and silver-speckled jellies. “But you’ve loads of shoes,” he bellowed joyfully. I shook my head sadly. Men just don’t get it, do they? They’re definitely missing the shoe chromosome.

But that's the point, Amy. It's easy to love someone when they're on their best behaviour — you can do that in your sleep. The real test is when they're — to use Neeve's expression — a pain in the hole. That's what love actually means.

Regardless of the gender of the highest wage earner, the balance of power in the relationship will suffer if the higher earner uses control of the purse strings as a system of reward and punishment. It will also suffer if the lower earner takes a chippy, haughty attitude to spending money they haven't actually generated themselves.

Baking makes me focus. On weighing the sugar. On sieving the flour. I find it calming and rewarding because, in fairness, it is sort of magic - you start off with all this disparate stuff, such as butter and eggs, and what you end up with is so totally different. And also delicious.

When I first met my husband, he had a very good job - company car, pension plan, grudging respect from his staff - the lot. I, on the other hand, was badly paid and devoid of ambition. Then I had a couple of books published and confounded all expectations by starting to earn more than he did.

Many nations use language simply to convey information, but it's different in Ireland. With most conversational exchanges you get an 'added extra' like the free little biscuit you sometimes get with a cappuccino in a fancy coffee place.

I used to write in bed, starting when I woke up. I believe that creative work comes from our subconscious mind, so I try to keep the gap between sleep and writing as minimal as possible.

I'd rather dig a ditch than go to a dinner party with people I don't know.

I'm proud of what I write and feel endorsed by my readers.

I went grey at 12, my eyesight went at 17. I've been a crock from very early on.

I've always been melancholic. At a party, everyone would be looking at the glittering chandeliers and I'd be looking at the waitress's cracked shoes.

When I was growing up, I despised Irishness. I felt our music, our television and our books were just poor imitations of what came out of Britain and America. I was all set to abandon it entirely.

Medically speaking, there is no such thing as a nervous breakdown. Which is very annoying to discover when you're right in the middle of one.