168 Quotes by Jen Lancaster

I would rather receive a Pap smear from Captain Hook than venture out on New Year’s Eve.

When I’m able to slough it off, when it’s not causing physical symptoms or putting me on edge, my anxiety still pops up out of nowhere to spoil nice moments. I fear good things happening because I believe something bad is sure to follow.

I’m such a fangirl when it comes to other writers. I read 250 books a year, and I’m always talking up books by other authors.

This should be easy because I’ve fallen out of love with Facebook. First, I want to be the kind of friend who hears about others’ milestones in person. I hate learning about major life events buried in a timeline between photos of fresh pedicures and pictures of lunch. When someone close to me has a baby or goes through emergency surgery or suffers a loss, they deserve more than a “like.” A click should never take the place of real interaction. Plus, I almost never visit anyone else’s page.

We are middle-aged. This is what happens. All the same nonsense that comes with puberty occurs again during perimenopause – the hormone surges, the moodiness, and the hair appearing where there wasn’t hair before. Except instead of filling in under the arms and on nether regions, these coarse follicles of hate are showing up on our freaking faces.

The thing about mass transportation is that it transports the masses.

I’ve always been able to cook Italian food. That’s in my blood because I’m half Sicilian.

At my age, I feel like I’m halfway to the finish line and life’s too short to do what I’m sure to hate.

But how come no one says anything to my face? I do dozens of events per year and I’ve met thousands of readers, and every single person I’ve ever encountered has been lovely. Why is that, I wonder? Am I more charming in person, or is it that face-to-face blunt-force-trauma honesty requires a modicum of courage?