Author of quotes: Helen Fielding. Page 2

That's terrible: call or lack of call means the difference between love and just friendship, between happiness and another hit in the trenches of warfare, and the feeling you have at the same time, each time becomes heavier.

When you are someone who likes - it's like your heart is wrapped in a blanket.

Like men who are late - they are much better than those who come before, scares you, sends you into a panic and finds the house unsightly items that you don't have time to hide.

In certain moments of life when things go wrong, and you don't know where to turn up, as if everywhere around you slam a rusty iron door. All you have to do is to be a heroine, have courage and do not sink into drink or self-pity. Then all will be well.

And yet, there are a few additional thoughts: some women insanely confident just because their former beloved still want them to come back to them (as long as those old lovers don't marry someone else, ha ha).

I kind of thought she was pregnant, but in fact knew that no, it's like you're coming home late at night and you think someone is coming for you, although I know that in reality it is not.

... homosexuals and single women who are over thirty, in many ways similar: both those, and others constantly disappoint their parents, and society looks at them as abnormal.

For some reason I got mad at Daniel. He's also responsible, but he did not have to spend eight pounds ninety five pence, hiding in the bathroom and pee on a stick...

Being a woman is worse than being a farmer. So much to fertilize and to clean: remove candle wax vegetation on the legs, shave the underarm hair; to pluck eyebrows; a heel scrub with a pumice stone; the roots of the hair tinting; skin clean scrub and moisturize with a cream; acne disinfecting lotion; nail rasp; eyelash dye; cellulite massage; abdominal muscles to strengthening exercises. And the whole labor process must be perfectly balanced - should you be distracted from him for a few days, and all efforts will come to naught. Sometimes I'm horrified to imagine what I would look like if returned to its natural appearance, given to me by nature: on each drumstick at his thick beard with long mustache, overgrown eyebrows; on the face a graveyard of dead skin cells with tombstones in the form of acne; long curving nails, like a vampire; eyes blind as the mole, and I squint stupid, like ancient old, as no contact lenses, and saggy body sways from all sides. Oh, no. Is it any wonder that women are so insecure?

Notice how often my friend Tom, it's amazing how much time and money you can save on dates, if you look closely to the details. Here white sock, there's a couple of red stripes, grey shoes, swastika - it's not all the little things that help to make the conclusion that it makes no sense to write down phone numbers and to fork out on expensive dinners, since anything will come of it.

Problem of working in publishing is that for him to read in his spare time - it's like to work as a garbage man, and in the evenings to dig into the trough for the pigs.

"Mom," I said. - Tom knew he was gay from the age of ten.
- Oh, dear! believe me! You know how people get these silly ideas. They can always talk.
- Does this mean that if I especially convincing conversation with you, you'd leave dad and started having an affair with Auntie Audrey?

Sometimes I look around the office, you see how all of continuously knocking on the keyboard, and begin to doubt, does work does anyone.

What about my human rights not to hang around with a stamp of ugliness on my face?