Lucy Sullivan Is Getting Married

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.

I had spent my whole life feeling homesick. The only difference between the two of us was that I didn't know what or where home was.

I'd rather eat nothing than eat a carrot.

In an unpredictable and unpleasant world it was both unusual and very pleasant to hear what I wanted to hear.

He seemed wild and dangerous and carefree--well, he would, would'nt he? What were motorcycles and black leather pants if not the uniform of a wild, dangerous and carefree man?

Survival was an unpleasent thing to witness.

But Lucy, I've no money." I put my face up to his and smiled. He smiled back. "Frankly my dear," I beamed, "I don't give a damn." I had always wanted to say that.

You were the one who wanted me to come here with you, so you'd better have the bloody manners to talk to me. If you wanted to flirt with someone then why did you invite me?" "Sorry, Lucy; you're right; forgive me, Lucy." He sounded humble but he certainly did not look it. "And you can knock of that naughty little boy smile," I continued.

I was in so much pain that I couldn’t imagine not feeling it

I despised him for liking me so much. I wondered how he could settle for so little.

I did all kinds of reckless things that look great if you're driving a fast car. I pulled away form traffic lights with a roar, leaving the other drivers staring bitterly after me - that was called "burning them up" said Daniel. I drove out in front of other cars - Daniel said that was called "cutting them up" and while we were stuck in a traffic jam, I winked and smiled at attractive men in other cars - Daniel said that was called "acting like a brazen trollop.

Guilt is a self-indulgence.

Was it my fault that I wanted a Schrödinger’s cat of a boyfriend, a man who was several directly conflicting things simultaneously.

they thought that there was no such thing as Depression, other than a vague, neurotic concept. That it was just an updated version of ‘suffering from her nerves’ which everyone knows translates as ‘she feels sorry for herself for no good reason.

It’s upsetting when the nice bloke you really like turns out to be a complete, lying, two-timing bastard. But it’s nearly as bad when the bloke that you thought was an unreliable heartbreaker turns out to be uncomplicated and nice.