Zitat des Tages von Marian Keyes:
I like hoodies. They just make me feel safe.
Many nations use language simply to convey information, but it's different in Ireland. With most conversational exchanges you get an 'added extra' like the free little biscuit you sometimes get with a cappuccino in a fancy coffee place.
I've kind of realised life is meant to be tough and everybody is in psychic and spiritual discomfort of some sort and has a burden to carry. I've realised I'm not special.
Baking makes me focus. On weighing the sugar. On sieving the flour. I find it calming and rewarding because, in fairness, it is sort of magic - you start off with all this disparate stuff, such as butter and eggs, and what you end up with is so totally different. And also delicious.
I've never made a secret of the fact that I'd have loved to have children.
Bizarrely, I actually feel safer the older I get, like people will expect less from me, and I can become more and more invisible, yet more and more eccentric.
I know of people who don't believe it, but depression is an illness, but unlike, say, a broken leg, you don't know when it'll get better.
Men can be men and still get excited about other men kicking a ball around and they're never mocked, whereas it's easy for women to take mocking on board, to be belittled. Because we're used to it.
I still get awful depression. It's who I am.
Regardless of the gender of the highest wage earner, the balance of power in the relationship will suffer if the higher earner uses control of the purse strings as a system of reward and punishment. It will also suffer if the lower earner takes a chippy, haughty attitude to spending money they haven't actually generated themselves.
When you're a mass-market writer, people think that you can just decide 'this happens, this happens, this happens', whereas with literary writers it's coming from their soul and their core. But with me it does come from my soul and my core, and my soul and my core often go AWOL, and then I've nothing to write.
Medically speaking, there is no such thing as a nervous breakdown. Which is very annoying to discover when you're right in the middle of one.
Some think love can be measured by the amount of butterflies in their tummy. Others think love can be measured in bunches of flowers, or by using the words 'for ever.' But love can only truly be measured by actions. It can be a small thing, such as peeling an orange for a person you love because you know they don't like doing it.
I am prone to despair. We are all born with a particular personality. I get afraid and then I don't want to leave the house.
As I get older the stars have gone from my eyes more, and I see that life is just something that has to be lived with, that it's better not to struggle.
I think reviewers are sexist... This isn't to sound bitter, but I think you're more likely to get a critical kicking if you're a woman. I just think that's a fact. I really think less value is put in general on women's voices, across the board.
I've always been melancholic. At a party, everyone would be looking at the glittering chandeliers and I'd be looking at the waitress's cracked shoes.
People promise to stick with their spouse 'for richer or poorer' but it's the 'for poorer' part that causes the worry. The big shock is that the 'for richer' bit can also cause problems.
I'm quite introverted but I'm not shy.
I'd rather dig a ditch than go to a dinner party with people I don't know.
When I first met my husband, he had a very good job - company car, pension plan, grudging respect from his staff - the lot. I, on the other hand, was badly paid and devoid of ambition. Then I had a couple of books published and confounded all expectations by starting to earn more than he did.
Every day I wake up afraid that I won't be able to write, that today is the day it has left me.
I used to feel defensive when people would say, 'Yes, but your books have happy endings', as if that made them worthless, or unrealistic. Some people do get happy endings, even if it's only for a while. I would rather never be published again than write a downbeat ending.
Optimism can be relearnt.
Do I mind being called a chick-lit writer? Well, it's not the worst thing that could happen.
Love and kindness go hand in hand.
I've been so showered in life, beyond my wildest dreams, such as having a loving partner I never thought I'd have.
My truth is that what doesn't kill you makes you weaker rather than stronger, although it makes you wiser.
I went grey at 12, my eyesight went at 17. I've been a crock from very early on.