Best 65 quotes of Caroline Kepnes on MyQuotes

All of life is slightly dependent on magic. So is death.

Amy is a Sharpie; she's passionate.

And [Benji] cheats on you, Beck. A lot. Compulsively. He is in intense pursuit of a performance artist who fucks with his head the way he fucks with yours.

and if anyone was ever going to live eternally in the light, I think it would be you.

And I will never again underestimate the power of anticipation. There is no better boost in the present than an invitation into the future.

... and you start telling a story about accidentally stealing shoes from an outlet and we've been on the steps for almost twenty minutes and you're so nervous and excited that you keep talking about shoes as if you have to keep talking about shoes or you might jump me right here, on the steps. I chose this spot because my whole fucking life I've walked by these steps and seen couples that make me feel alone, rejected. And now there are loners passing by you and me, jealous, and you're still talking and fuck, it's hard to listen when I can smell your body wash.

. . . a nightmarish thing that frightens Love, haunting her, weighing her down, the thing that she's supposed to love, the way the world initially instructs children to love clowns even though we all know deep down that they're creepy, old, puffy men in masks leering at children.

Are you fucking kidding me, you lying thieving hairy-legged beast?

At the counter, a different waitress flirts with an aspiring writer who's probably been trying to fuck her and finish his screenplay for months. He asks for a side of guac and she tells him that it's two dollars extra. That's how it works here. The guy who deserves free guac doesn't get free guac.

Beck, listen to me. Benji is an asshole. Okay?" I want to scream YES but I sit. Still. Benji. "Listen, Beck," Chana rails on. "Some guys are assholes and you have to accept that. You can buy him all the books in the world and he's still gonna be Benji. He'll never be Benjamin or, God forbid, Ben because he doesn't have to, because he's a permanent man-baby, okay? He and his club soda can fuck off and so can his stupid ass name. I mean seriously, Benji? Is he kidding? And the way he says it. Like it's Asian or French. Ben Geeee. Dude, just fuck off." Lynn sigh. "I never thought about it that much. Benji. Ben Gee. Gee, Ben." There's a little laughter now and I am learning things about Benji. I don't like it but I have to accept it. Benji is real and I get another vodka soda. Benji.

Being alive is nothing without being able to live.

Brunch, a meal invented by rich white chicks to rationalize day drinking and bingeing on French toast.

But the most important thing I know is that I want the possibility of you more than the reality of [her].

Captain Dave is a salt-and-pepper guy who looks older than forty-six. He doesn't have kids of his own. Some people are born to be uncles and Captain Dave is that kind of people. He's also a recovering alcoholic who's obsessed with what everyone else is drinking at all times. Life is hard for some people.

Coachella is a festival fashion show where people dress up like hippies and pretend that Passion Pit is as good as the Rolling Stones.

Dope guac," says some asshole, and I pick up a Dorito and shove it into the guac. There is nothing remarkable about this guac, about any guac, and California needs to calm the fuck down. They're just avocados. Guac is guac and while sometimes it's slimy and disgusting, it's never delicious.

Do . . . you . . . speak . . . English?" she asks. NO, BUT I SPEAK CUNT.

Everyone in this building is sleeping; Angelenos need beauty sleep. They need energy to make storyboards for web series and hike and talk about movies they'll never make and walk their dogs that hate them.

From every boy masquerading as a man that you let into your body, your heart. You learned you didn’t have whatever magic turns a beast into a prince.

He doesn't hate me. He hates himself. If people could handle their self-loathing, customer service would be smoother.

He laughs and hugs me and says that I shouldn't believe anyone who tells me it's gonna get better. "Ride the wave," he says. "Don't wait for it. Don't fear it. Just ride it.

Hollywood, where the rich don't have to pay for anything.

I bet he got picked on but what they don't tell you about bullying is that sometimes, the kid deserves it.

I don't feel sorry for myself, Beck. Lots of people have shitty parents and roaches in the cabinets and stale, raw Pop-Tarts for dinner and a TV that barely works and a dad who doesn't care when his son doesn't come home during a national disaster. The thing is, I'm lucky. I had the bookstore.

I fold my hands under my head and tell the books all about you. They listen, Beck. I know it sounds crazy, but they do.

If we were teenagers, I could kiss you. But I’m on a platform behind a counter wearing a name tag and we’re too old to be young.

I gave her as much as I had, but it's like the difference between a movie and a book: A book lets you choose how much of the blood you want to see. A book gives you the permission to see the story as you want, as your mind directs. You interpret. Your Alexander Portnoy doesn't look like mine because we all have our unique view. When you finish a movie you leave the theater with your friend and talk about the movie right away. When you finish a book you think. Love grew up on movies and I have just read her a book. I give her time to digest.

I hate it here... ...Everyday is actually three days, a freezing morning, a blistering day, and a cool night. You need a lot of clothes. And every day is the same day, which is why it's important to hang a calendar. I see why people move here and wake up one day scratching their heads, wondering when they turned forty or what year it is.

Making It in Hollywood is the most disgusting phrase in the English language. It’s more disturbing than prolific serial killer and rare terminal illness.

I'm like an asshole in a sitcom who learns the same fucking lesson every week and this is my life.

In my defense, I love the book in a postmodern kind of way where I've always sensed that it contains something that I relate to. I think it's the kind of book that echoes my beliefs and my sentiments and I've always related well to people who have read the book and I've written about the book. You know, I majored in comp lit and it's possible, it's very possible to read a book without reading it in the traditional straightforward manner. You can read about a book, Joe. Do you know what I mean? Do you understand?

In terms of sheer annoyance, nobody I have ever known has compared to Sare Worthington, saver of the environment, native of Portland, Maine, forever wishing that she were from Portland, Oregon. Bitch should have just moved there.

In the cage, you feel loved, not trapped. Just like me.

I peeked in the bag. Do you know what was in there? I'll tell you what was in there: a collapsible tray table. Is there any sadder purchase in this fucking world? Maybe a CD of C+C Music Factory's Greatest Hits, but that's about it.

I pick up the list of Benji's five favorite books because we've got work to do: "Gravity's Rainbow" by Thomas Pynchon. He's a pretentious fuck and a liar. "Underworld" by Don DeLillo. He's a snob. "On the Road" by Jack Kerouac. He's a spoiled passport-carrying fuck stunted in eighth grade. "Brief Interviews with Hideous Men" by David Foster Wallace. Enough already. "The Red Badge of Courage" by Stephen Crane. He's got Mayflowers in his blood.

I scroll through my own stories in my phone, the ones I write when I can't sleep, when I think about her, about what the fuck happened, when I make like Alvy Singer and try to correct it all with my imagination.

It's June and the city is ripe with meaningless fecal heat. It will be a different kind of hot in LA, the kind that made the Beach Boys all tan and giddy, a heat that doesn't harass you in the shade.

It's the little things that make you want to kill someone, the way Milo drinks Diet Dr Pepper and ties his Jewfro in a bun and lifts his shirt to show off his stomach and wipes his glasses down even though they're not dirty. Yes, Milo got glasses, and seafoam green Topsiders, and a navy blue Polo-style shirt with a popped collar, and didn't I already kill this guy when he was schilling Home Soda and fucking Guinevere Beck?

Los Angeles is full of places to hide a body, but when the person inside the body doesn’t love you, it’s not an easy thing, turning that breathing person into a dead one.

Love is kind, love is patient but also, mainly, above all—yes—Love is perverted.

Nature is an inherently forward beast; footsteps disappear, past hurts fade.

Now there are elements of our dynamic coming slowly into view, like a photograph in a darkroom.

Oh Beck, I love reading your e-mail. Learning your life. And I am careful; I always mark new messages unread so that you won't get alarmed. My good fortune doesn't stop there; You prefer e-mail. You don't like texting. So this means that I am not missing out on all that much communication. You wrote an "essay" for some blog in which you stated that "e-mails last forever. You can search for any word at any time and see everything you ever said to anyone about that one word. Texts go away." I love you for wanting a record. I love your records for being so accessible and I'm so full of you, your calendar of caloric intake and hookups and menstrual moments, your self-portraits you don't publish, your recipes and exercises. You will know me soon too, I promise.

People are so lonely, they spend their birthdays on the Internet, thanking people for wishing them a happy birthday, people who only know it’s their birthday because Facebook told them.

See how you were talking to me before you even knew me?

She is not burdened with a sensitive heart. Hers just beats.

She wasted my heart, my time.

So it's on. A plan is made. I'm relaxed just knowing that he's going to be dead soon.

Some good shit happens fast (a bestselling book), and some good shit happens slow (love).

That's the problem with this never-ending centipede of lemmings, Beck. You know they're all pussies, each and every one of 'em. They buy these books to get scared because their lives are too easy. How pathetic is that?