Shopaholic Takes Manhattan

There's no luck in business. There's only drive, determination, and more drive.

People who want to make a million borrow a million first

If I behave as though this is a completely normal situation, then maybe it will be ...

Still, that's the point of love; you love someone despite their flaws.

That's the trouble with having the whole world love you. One day, you wake up and it's flirting with your best friend instead. And you don't know what to do. You're thrown.

Oh fuck. I shouldn't have said that.

I'll show Luke I can fit into the city. I'll show him I can be a true New Yorker. I'll go the gym, and then I'll eat a bagel, and I'll ... shoot someone, maybe? Or maybe just the gym will be enough.

Oh, this shouldn't be allowed. There should be a rule which says that people you've met in the gym should never meet you in real life.

I'm lying. I don't just need someone like you. I need you.

Suddenly I've had enough of all this. I've had enough of being made to feel insecure and paranoid and wondering what's going on

If you're single, then I'm single?" What's that supposed to be? Lyrics to a pop song?

This is what's so annoying about going out with Luke. You can't get away with anything.

Why on earth declutter when you can just shrinkwrap?

Visiting any shop for the first time is exciting. There's always that buzz as you push open the door; that hope; that belief - that this is going to be the shop of all shops, which will bring you everything you ever wanted, at magically low prices.

Maybe I could... secretly fix a trailer onto the car when Luke ins't looking? Ot maybe I could wear all my clothes, on top of each other, and say I'm feeling a bit chilly...

You know, this always happens. Whenever I go away, I always think I'll come back to mountains of exciting posts, with parcels and telegrams and letters full of scintillating news - and I'm always disappointed. In fact, I really think someone should set up a company called holidaypost.com which you would pay to write you loads of exciting letters, just so you had something to look forward to when you got home.

It's a big step, moving to a new city, especially a city as extreme as New York. It's not the same as London..." "I know," I nod. "You have to get your nails done.

Look into your heart- and go after what you really want.

He said when you use your brain, no-one comes near you for ingenuity

A cold dismay creeps over me. Oh okay, maybe I did once kind of pretend I had a stalker. Which I shouldn't have done. But I mean, just because you invent one tiny stalker - that doesn't make you a complete nut case, does it?

But there's no point. He's busy with his life - and I'm busy with mine.

I don't even feel so sure of that any more. I mean, if we were a couple, he'd be here, wouldn't he? He'd be here with me.

The whole point about T-shirts is you choose them in the morning according to your mood, like crystals, or aromatherapy oils.

He’s talking intently on his mobile phone and sipping a cup of coffee and frowning at something in the paper. But then he looks up and his dark eyes meet mine, and his whole face breaks into a smile. A true, affectionate smile, which makes him seem like a different person. When I first knew Luke, I only ever saw him businesslike and polite, or scarily angry, or—very occasionally—amused. Even after we started seeing each other, it was a long time before he really let his guard down. In fact, the first time he really, really laughed, I was so surprised, I snorted lemonade through my nose. Even now, whenever I see his face creasing into a real smile, I feel a bit of a lift inside. Because I know he’s not like that with everyone. He’s smiling like that because it’s me. For me." (Shopaholic Takes Manhattan by Sophie Kinsella)

Everyone knows, the point of an interview is not to demonstrate who you are, but to pretend to be whatever sort of person they want for the job.

he only looks at how hard a person works and what results they get—and not at what a completely horrible cow they are.

You look a little lost, my dear,' a nun says behind me, and I jump. 'Were you interested in seeing the Bevington Triptych?' 'Oh,' I say. 'Erm... yes. Absolutely.' 'Up there,' she points, and I walk tentatively towards the front of the chapel, hoping it will become obvious what the Bevington Triptych is. A statue, maybe? Or a.. a piece of tapestry? But as I reach the elderly lady, I see that she's staring up at a whole wall of stained glass windows. I have to admit, they're pretty amazing. I mean look at that huge blue one in the middle. It's fantastic! 'The Bevington Triptych,' says the elderly woman. 'It simply has no parallel, does it?' 'Wow,' I breathe reverentially, staring up with her. 'It's beautiful.' It really is stunning. God, it just shows, there's no mistaking a real work of art, is there? When you come across real genius, it just leaps out at you. And I'm not even an expert. 'Wonderful colours,' I murmur. 'The detail,' says the woman, clasping her hands, 'is absolutely incomparable.' 'Incomparable,' I echo. I'm just about to point out the rainbow, which I think is a really nice touch - when I suddenly notice that the elderly woman and I aren't looking at the same thing. She's looking at some painted wooden thing which I hadn't even noticed. As inconspicuously as possible, I shift my gaze - and feel a pang of disappointment. Is this the Bevington triptych? But it isn't even pretty! 'Whereas this Victorian rubbish,' the woman suddenly adds savagely, 'is absolutely criminal! That rainbow! Doesn't it make you feel sick?' She gestures to my big blue window, and I gulp. 'I know,' I say. 'It's shocking, isn't it? Absolutely... You know - I think I'll just go for a little wander...

What is it about shoes? I mean, I like most kind of clothes, but a fabulous pair of shoes can just reduce me to jelly. Sometimes, when no-one else is at home, I open my wardrobe and just stare at all my pairs of shoes, like some mad collector. And once I lined them all up on my bed and took a photograph of them. Which might seem a bit weird, but I thought, I've got loads of photos of people I don't really like, so why not take one of something I love?