What doesn't kill us makes us funnier.

I forced myself to stop thinking about it. I went to the room in my brain where all my thoughts about Adam lived and disconnected the electricity and boarded up all the doors and windows, so nothing could get out.Obviously it was very unsightly. There were bound to be complaints from the neighboring thoughts. But I had no choice.

Failed relationships can be described as so much wasted makeup.Forget the laughs, forget the fights, forget the sex, forget the jealousy. But take off your hat and observe a moment's silence for the legions of unknown tubes of foundation, mascara, eyeliner, blusher and lipstick who died that it might all have been possible. But who died in vain.

When I opened my case in the hotel, he gestured excitedly at my snakeskin sandals, turquoise suede wedges and silver-speckled jellies. “But you’ve loads of shoes,” he bellowed joyfully. I shook my head sadly. Men just don’t get it, do they? They’re definitely missing the shoe chromosome.

So I'm back again to the eternal question, the one that has plagued me all my life: How Do Other People Do It? How come they were given life's rule book and I missed out? Where was I when God was dispensing capability and cop on? Looking at shoes, probably.

...as you know, I don't believe in fear, just an invention by men so they get all the money and good jobs...

I'd rather eat nothing than eat a carrot.

But that's the point, Amy. It's easy to love someone when they're on their best behaviour — you can do that in your sleep. The real test is when they're — to use Neeve's expression — a pain in the hole. That's what love actually means.

I suppose I wanted to have my cake and eat it.But then again, what were you going to do with your cake if not eat it?Frame it?Use it as a sachet in your underwear drawer?