When someone you loved was depending on your lie, it was perfectly easy.
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Liane Moriarty
Liane Moriarty (born 15 November 1966) is an Australian author. She is the older sister of author Jaclyn Moriarty. 2CareerEdit After leaving school, Moriarty worked in advertising and marketing at a legal publishing company. She then ran her own company for a while before taking work as a freelance advertising copywriter. In 2004, after obtaining a master's degree at Macquarie University in Sydney her first novel Three Wishes, written as part of the degree, was published. Five further novels have been published. Moriarty lives in Sydney with her husband, Adam, a former farmer from Tasmania who worked in agricultural marketing, and two children, George and Ann
Did she love him as much as she hated him? Did she hate him as much as she loved him?
When someone you loved was depending on your lie, it was perfectly easy.
Those we love don’t go away, they sit beside us every day.
She wanted to be falling in love, not trying to fix a broken relationship. She wanted to be someone’s first choice, not their second.
When you were young you talked about ‘falling in love’ with such amusing gravity, as if it were an actual recordable event, when what was it really? Chemicals. Hormones. A trick of the mind.
Perhaps nothing was ever ‘meant to be.’ There was just life, and right now, and doing your best. Being a bit bendy.
Marriage was a form of insanity; love hovering permanently on the edge of aggravation.
Falling in love was easy. Anyone could fall. It was holding on that was tricky.
It seemed truly frightening that it was only by sheer chance that she had met Nick. It could so easily not have happened and then she would have had a shadowy, half-alive existence, like some sort of woodland creature who never sees sunlight, never even knowing how much she could love and how much…
She had always thought that exquisitely happy time at the beginning of her relationship with Nick was the ultimate, the feeling they'd always be trying to replicate, to get back, but now she realized that was wrong. That was like comparing sparkling mineral water to French champagne.
Early love is exciting and exhilarating. It's light and bubbly. Anyone can love like that. But after three children, after a separation and a near-divorce, after you've hurt each other and forgiven each other, bored each other and surprised each other, after you've seen the worst and the best--Well,…
Dying was such an elegant way to leave a relationship. No infidelity, no boredom, no long, complicated conversations late into the night. No 'She's still single, I hear.' No running into each other at parties and weddings. No 'She's stacked on the weight' or 'She's showing her age.' Dying was final…
It sometimes seemed so peculiar and wrong to her that you could be that intimate with someone, to go to sleep with him and wake up with him, to do really quite extraordinarily personal things together on a regular basis, and then, suddenly, you don't even know his telephone number, or where he's…
You think love is black and white. All women think that. And they’re wrong. Women are really intelligent except for when they’re being really stupid.