128 Quotes About Susanna-moore

There was something different in his voice, as if he were hurrying me along, moving me past something before I saw it.

I didn't think I seemed like the sort of person who would mind.""What?""I'd have fucked you anyway." . . ."I thought I'd lose you," he said at last."Have you ever told me the truth?""Look—" he paused. "People lie to me all day long. And I lie to them all day long. I've done it all my life.

He was convincing. Lying as cultural attribute. A hazard of the job. And I fell for it. It did not occur to me that he lies simply because he likes it. Lies to bosses. Lies on the stand. He boasts about it. Lies under oath. It's called testilying, he'd told me. Lies to women, especially to women. Starting with his mother and working his way through all of us. His wife. The doll collection. He couldn't be bothered to tell the truth.

I was finding it difficult to speak with any vivacity, any pleasure. I wanted to get off the phone. I wanted him to feel bad, too.

I do not remember too much now. Certain things. Certain images. All sorts of irrational, irrational because nonsensically inappropriate, pieces of information stream through my head, as if my unconscious were bombarding me with words and phrases, an enemy agent subverting a radio broadcast.

Sometimes when I am not expecting it, when I let down my guard for a moment, allowing the thousands, the millions of little synapses in my head to work their will, conveying to me just what it is that I cannot bear to know, cannot bear to be known, I do remember.

As always, I was pulled in by the small gesture. It was all that I knew about him, and it was perilous to me.

Will you tell me?" I asked."Tell you what?" He spoke flatly, as if he dreaded my question and already knew that he would answer it."What you did.""Why do you think that knowing makes a difference?""I've thought that all my life.""Well, you're wrong. Knowing don't mean shit.

I am so ashamed by the things that used to make me unhappy.