It’s easier to part with a man than with illusions about him.
I don’t get why they call it heartbreak. It feels like every other bone in my body is broken too.
Relationships? Well, Sigmund, relationships are so fragile. It just takes one thing, one... tiny little offence, and it can snowball on you. And if that snowball starts to pick up speed, God forbid, you better tuck and go. <...> And bam! The shine's off the apple. That's when you find out that that pretty girl you married isn't a pretty girl at all. No. She's a man-eater. And I'm not talking about the ''Whoa, whoa, here she comes'' kind of man-eater. I'm talking about the kind that uses your dignity as a dishtowel to wipe up any shreds of manhood that might be stuck inside the sink. I may have tormented her from time to time, but that's what I thought marriage was all about. So much so, that by the end of that relationship, I honestly don't know
who I hated more: her or me. I used to sit around and wonder why our friends weren't trying to destroy each other, like we were. And here it turns out the answer's pretty simple. They weren't unhappy. We were. <...> Relationships don't work the way they do in the movies. Will they? Won't they? They finally do and they're happy for ever. Nine out of ten end because they weren't right for each other to begin with, and half of the ones that get married get divorced anyway. And through all this, I have not become a cynic. I do happen to believe that love is mainly about pushing chocolate-covered candies, and you know, in some cultures, a chicken. You can call me a sucker. I don't care. Because I do believe in it.
"Don't linger like this. You have decided to go away. Now go!" For she did not want him to see her crying. She was such a proud flower.
When you lose someone, it stays with you. Always reminding you of how easy it is to get hurt.
You can have the guts and the courtesy to tell a woman, to her face, that you no longer want to see her.
One runs the risk of weeping a little, if one lets himself be tamed...
I sometimes have a queer feeling with regard to you. It is as if I had a string somewhere under my left ribs... And if that boisterous Channel, and two hundred miles or so of land come broad between us, I am afraid that cord of communion will be snapt; and then I’ve a nervous notion I should take to bleeding inwardly. As for you,—you’d forget me.
What I'm trying to say is I understand feeling as small and as insignificant as humanly possible. And how it can actually ache in places that you didn't know you had inside you. And it doesn't matter how many new haircuts you get, or gyms you join, or... how many glasses of chardonnay you drink with your girlfriends. You still go to bed every night, going over every detail, and wonder what you did wrong or how you could have misunderstood. And how in the hell, for that brief moment, you could think that you were that happy? And sometimes you can even convince yourself that he'll see the light and show up at your door. And after all that, however long all that may be, you'll go somewhere new. And you'll meet people who make you feel worthwhile again. And little pieces of your soul will finally come back. And all that fuzzy stuff, those years of your life that you wasted... that will eventually begin to fade.
— It never takes me more than a week to get over a relationship.
— It never takes you more than a shower to get over a relationship.
So if you want to leave now... eventually I will forget you, as you will me.