David Nicholls Quotes

David Nicholls Quotes

You can live your whole life not realizing that what you're looking for is right in
You can live your whole life not realizing that what you're looking for is right in front of you.

This is where it all begins. Everything starts here, today.

You're gorgeous, you old hag, and if I could give you just one gift ever for the rest of your life it would be this. Confidence. It would be the gift of confidence. Either that or a scented candle

Sometimes, when it’s going badly, she wonders if what she believes to be a love of the written word is really just a fetish for stationery. The true writer, the born writer, will scribble words on scraps of litter, the back of a bus tickets, on the wall of a cell. Emma is lost on anything less than 120gsm.

There seemed no reason why she shouldn't try writing something in between, but she was discovering once again that reading and writing were not the same - you couldn't just soak it up and then squeeze it out again.

Dexter, I love you so much. So, so much, and I probably always will. I just don't like you anymore. I'm sorry.

Call me sentimental, but there's no-one in the world that I'd like to see get dysentery more than you

This is me.’" He handed her the precious scrap of paper. ‘Call me or I’ll call you, but one of us will call, yes? What I mean is it’s not a competition. You don’t lose if you phone first

Happyish. Well, happyish isn't so bad.'
'It's the most we can hope for.

She drinks pints of coffee and writes little observations and ideas for stories with her best fountain pen on the linen-white pages of expensive notebooks. Sometimes, when it's going badly, she wonders if what she believes to be a love of the written word is really just a fetish for stationery.

He could feel her laughter against his chest, and at that moment he thought that there was no better feeling than making Emma Morley laugh.

He put one hand lightly on the back of her neck and simultaneously she placed one hand lightly on his hip, and they kissed in the street as all around them people hurried home in the summer light, and it was the sweetest kiss that either of them would ever know. This is where it all begins. Everything starts here, today. And then it was over.

What if it rained or you felt a bit glandy? It just wasn't practical. Better by far to simply try and be good and courageous and bold and to make a difference. Not change the world exactly, but the bit around you.

Okay, well I think the programme is like being screamed at for an hour by a drunk with a strobe-light, but like I said-

Maybe they're in love."
"And is that what love looks like - all wet mouths and your skirt rucked up?"
"Sometines it is.

The early days of any relationship are punctuated with a series of firsts - first sight, first words, first laugh, first kiss, first nudity, etc., with these shared landmarks becoming more widely spaced and innocuous as days turn to years, until eventually you're left with first visit to a National Trust property or some such.

All young people worry about things, it's a natural and inevitable part of growing up, and at the age of sixteen my greatest anxiety in life was that I'd never again achieve anything as good, or pure, or noble, or true, as my O-level results.

There is a point in the future where even the worst disaster starts to settle into an anecdote.

Who's he seeing now then?"
"No idea. They're like funfair goldfish; no point giving them names, they never last that long.

You should visit the Palatine. It's at the top of that hill . . ."
"I know where the Palatine is, Dexter, I was visiting Rome before you were born."
"Yes, who was emperor back then?

You start out wanting to change the world through language, and end up thinking it's enough to tell a few good jokes.

He swatted at her with his book. "Shut up and read, will you?"
He lay back down and closed his eyes. Emma glanced over to check that he was smiling, and smiled too.

Cuddling was for great aunts and teddy bears. Cuddling gave him cramp.

Afterward, there was some debate as to whether we'd actually "done it properly," which gives you some idea of the awesome skill and artful dexterity of my lovemaking technique.

And is that what love looks like - all wet mouths and your skirt rucked up?"

"Sometimes it is.

I'm just not going to do it so that we can say that we've done it. And I'm not going to do it if the first thing you say afterwards is 'please don't tell anyone' or 'let's forget it ever happened'. If you have to keep something secret it's because you shouldn't be doing it in the first place!

Why, I wondered, did people seek out portrayals of the very experiences that, in real life, would send them mad with despair? Shouldn't art be an escape, a laugh, a comfort, a thrill?

An amusing story? She jabs the call button as if poking an eye. She doesn’t want an amusing story, she wants change, a break, not anecdotes. Her life has been stuffed with anecdotes, an endless string of the bastards, now she wants something to right for once. She wants success, or at least the hope of it.

Keep the change," he smiled. Was there ever a more empowering phrase than "Keep the change"?

But how can you not like music? That's the same as not liking food! Or sex!

Their lips touched now, mouths pursed tight, their eyes open, both of them stock still. The moment held, a kind of such glorious confusion.

A moment passed, perhaps half a second when their faces said what they felt, and then Emma was smiling, laughing, her arms around his neck.

If you're my friend I should be able to talk to you but I can't, and if I can't talk to you, well, what is the point of you? Of us?

Maybe we've grown out of each other.

I'm just not prepared to be treated like this anymore.'
'Treated like what?'
She sighed, and it was a moment before she spoke. 'Like you always want to be somewhere else, with someone else.

No, friends were like clothes: fine while they lasted but eventually they wore thin or you grew out of them.

Their friendship was like a wilted bunch of flowers that she insisted on topping up with water. Why not let it die instead? It was unrealistic to expect a friendship to last forever…

Nevertheless she feels a great wave of affection for Dexter Mayhew. In eight years not a day has gone by when she hasn't thought of him. She misses him and she wants him back. I want my best friend back, she thinks, because without him nothing is good and nothing is right.

All his words and actions would now be fit for his daughter’s ears and eyes. Life would be lived as if under [her] constant scrutiny. He would never do anything that might cause her pain or anxiety or embarrassment and there would be nothing, absolutely nothing in his life to be ashamed of anymore.

It's scented! Your wedding invitations are scented?"
"It's meant to be lavender."
"No, Dex - it's money. It smells of money.

But the thing about Literature is, well, basically it encapsulates all the disciplines - it's history, philosophy, politics, sexual politics, sociology, psychology, linguistics, science. Literature is mankind's organised response to the world around him, or her.

I applied for the University of Life. Didn't get the grades.

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