Gillian Flynn
Gillian Flynn
Gillian Schieber Flynnis an American author, screenwriter, comic book writer and former television critic for Entertainment Weekly. Flynn's three published novels are the thrillers Sharp Objects, Dark Places, and Gone Girl, the latter of which she adapted for the screen in the 2014 film of the same name directed by David Fincher...
NationalityAmerican
ProfessionNovelist
Date of Birth24 February 1971
CityKansas City, MO
CountryUnited States of America
I ached once, hard, like a period typed at the end of a sentence.
Safer to be feared than loved.
It's impossible to compete with the dead. I wished I could stop trying.
I've always been partial to the image of liquor as lubrication, a layer of protection from all the sharp thoughts in your head.
They always call depression the blues, but I would have been happy to waken to a periwinkle outlook. Depression to me is urine yellow, washed out, exhausted miles of weak piss.
Everytime people said I was pretty, I thought of everything ugly swarming beneath my clothes.
The question I've asked more often during our marriage, if not out loud, if not to the person who could answer. I supposed these questions storm cloud over every marriage: What are you thinking how are you feeling? Who are you? What have we done to each other? What will we do?
My dad had limitations. That's what my good-hearted mom always told us. He had limitations, but he meant no harm. It was kind of her to say, but he did do harm.
I would have done anything to feel real again.
A town so suffocating and small, you tripped over people you hated every day. People who knew things about you. It's the kind of place that leaves a mark.
I had no sympathy for drama queens.
Republicans go to Sam’s Club, Democrats go to Costco.
Women get consumed. Not surprising, considering the sheer amount of traffic a woman's body experiences. Tampons and speculums. Cocks, fingers, vibrators and more, between the legs, from behind, in the mouth.
You drink a little too much and try a little too hard. And you go home to a cold bed and think, that was fine. And your life is a long line of fine.