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Paula Hawkins

Slow Fire Burning

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  • Habitante de libroцитирапреди 4 месеца
    That again. What it always came down to. You couldn’t understand, you’re not a mother. You’ve never experienced love, not really. You don’t have it inside you, whatever it is, the capacity for limitless, unconditional love. The capacity for unbounded hatred, either.
  • Habitante de libroцитирапреди 4 месеца
    She might have grabbed hold of his hair, pulled his head back, and jammed the piece of glass into his throat.

    But now it is too late.
  • Habitante de libroцитирапреди 4 месеца
    Why must people take what does not belong to them?
  • Habitante de libroцитирапреди 4 месеца
    That’s what he is. He is grasping, calculating, and manipulative.
  • Habitante de libroцитирапреди 4 месеца
    As he leaves, he hums a tune, and in a voice full of tears, he sings

    What I took from her, I won’t give back
  • Habitante de libroцитирапреди 4 месеца
    Like loneliness, the absence of friendship was self-perpetuating: the harder you tried to make people like you, the less likely they were to do so; most people recognized right away that something was off, and they shied away.
  • Habitante de libroцитирапреди 4 месеца
    She shuffled exhaustedly down the walkway and down all those stairs, legs heavy as her heart.
  • Habitante de libroцитирапреди 4 месеца
    The sensation shamed her again: it was like holding a child, like holding her sister when she’d been a little girl—tiny and fierce and funny. Infuriating. Lifetimes ago.
  • Habitante de libroцитирапреди 4 месеца
    once you’d fallen in love you could never be truly free, could you?
  • Habitante de libroцитирапреди 4 месеца
    she thought she might die from the shock, at first, but then that wore off, and the grief came, and that was worse.
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