Krysten Ritter Quotes

Some of us are out of place even when we are home.

The problem is that people think in black and white. They think they can have the good without the bad. But everything that's good for one person is probably bad for someone else. Life isn't like the Bible says it is. It isn't a choice between good and evil. It's about choosing which evils you can stand.

Memories are like fire, and need only a little oxygen to grow.

I always want the things that hurt most.

Heaven is for redeemed sinners, he said, after hours of silence. Dogs don’t need it. They live their whole lives in heaven.

The past is a trick of the mind. It’s a story we misunderstand over and over.

Law school teaches you one thing above all: how to speak while saying absolutely nothing.

When did other people's happiness start feeling like assault? But the answer comes quickly, and brings a bad taste to my mouth. Always. I didn't ever stop feeling excluded. I just started to wear it and pretend it was my choice. Maybe that's why I was drawn to the law of poisoned things, and hurt people, and scabby chemical earth. Maybe toxic is the only thing I really understand.

Your problem, Abby, isn't that you can't draw. It's that you can't see.

I'm sorry," I say, without knowing exactly what I'm sorry for. For your daughter, for her job, for that sophomore behind the Dumpsters, men who get to do anything they want, and the people who are taken advantage of. Because isn't that, ultimately, what the case comes down to? There are people of the world who squeeze and the ones who suffocate.

I know now that there's a hole inside me. A hole that can't be patched or filled with files or paperwork or legal cases or new clothes or miles or happy hours or bartenders. This was never about the water. It's not even about Kaycee, not really. It's about me.

Barrens has it's roots in me. If I want it gone forever, I'll have to cut them out myself.

Things dead and buried are best left that way. They don't look none too pretty when they come up.

In town, he wore his religion like armor, and somehow that kept him untouchable. At home, he wielded it like a weapon.

The past is just a story we tell.

Nothing was ever her fault. She was immune to guilt, and her memory worked like one of those old gold sifting pans, shaking away all the dirt, all the bad stuff, leaving intact only the things she really wanted to remember, the things that made her look good.

Any self-help book in the world will tell you that you can’t just run your past away.

Crows have amazing memories. They can distinguish between human faces, too. They're like elephants. They never forget.

You know the problem, Abby, isn't that you can't draw, she said, out of nowhere. It's that you can't see.

Joe refuses to sleep in one of Barrens’s few motels or rentals, claiming that a gay black man belongs in Barrens, Indiana, like a dildo belongs on a dinner table.

The particular odor of artificial air freshener, musty old travel guides, and baked goods is like the barrel of a gun, shooting me into the past.

My phone’s dead, and I have to find the microwave to read the time: 8:12. Only bad news comes this early.

What was I thinking with the shot girls? Lord help me if my husband gets a boner in public.

saw you leave the welcome party with Jay Logenbach.” His eyes narrow. “You women are fucking hypocrites. You all like to bitch about how we’re the dogs, but you’re just as bad. So you can spare me with your woe is me bullshit.

Aimee rolls her eyes. She’s making it out like the house staff are the ones with a gossip problem, but really, the big talkers are the arrogant American homeowners who don’t realize the help understands English. I’ve heard these women say some pretty personal shit in front of their staff without thinking twice.

I wanted to be Belle so bad—all those books and all that conviction, and then winning the jackpot with the sweet, rich, perfectly tortured beast. I was disappointed at the end when he turned into an ordinary man.

How can you trust him? There was probably a damn good reason he and Oliver were estranged.” Her eyes dart around, then refocus on me, then dart again. “We could have been in another country by now. Instead, you’re choosing a man who’d steal his brother’s wife,” she says.