It's far less important to me to be liked these days than to be understood.
Lionel ShriverIt's queer how the thing what attracted you to someone is the same as what you come to despise about them
Lionel ShriverStichwörter: the-post-birthday-world
No eleven-year-old has any real grasp of death. He doesn't have any real concept of other people--that they feel pain, even that they exist. And his own adult future isn't real to him, either. Makes it that much easier to throw away.
Lionel ShriverChange is like that: you are no longer where you were; you are not yet where you will get; you are nowhere exactly.
Lionel ShriverStichwörter: change nowhere there here
A lot of people get so hung up on what they can't have that they don't think for a second about whether they really want it.
Lionel ShriverStichwörter: yearning jealousy materialism want
The existence of other people is essentially awkward.
Lionel ShriverStichwörter: people awkwardness sociability
In a country that doesn't discriminate between fame and infamy, the latter presents itself as plainly more achievable.
Lionel ShriverStichwörter: fame right-and-wrong infamy
Not that happiness is dull. Only that it doesn't tell well. And of our consuming diversions as we age is to recite, not only to others but to ourselves, our own story.
Lionel ShriverStichwörter: happiness story tell
But keeping secrets is a discipline. I never use to think of myself as a good liar, but after having had some practice I had adopted the prevaricator's credo that one doesn't so much fabricate a lie as marry it. A successful lie cannot be brought into this world and capriciously abandoned; like any committed relationship it must be maintained, and with far more devotion than the truth, which carries on being carelessly true without any help. By contrast, my lie needed me as much as I needed it, and so demanded the constancy of wedlock: Till death do us part.
Lionel ShriverOutside, she thought that there ought to be a word for it: the air temperature that was perfectly neither hot nor cold. One degree lower, and she might have felt a faint misgiving about not having brought a jacket. One degree higher, and a skim of sweat might have glistened at her hairline. But at this precise degree, she required neither wrap nor breeze. Were there a word for such a temperature, there would have to be a corollary for the particular ecstasy of greeting it - the heedlessness, the needlessness, the suspended lack of urgency, as if time could stop, or should. Usually temperature was a battle; only at this exact fulcrum was it an active delight.
Lionel ShriverStichwörter: happiness temperature
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