“Then she had understood how it was possible for a man to do nothing wrong, and still to be wrong, day after day.”

“She had to tell him, while she still had time, how wrong he’d been and how right she’d been. How wrong not to love her more, how wrong not to cherish her and have sex at every opportunity, how wrong not to trust her financial instincts, how wrong to have spent so much time at work and so little with the children, how wrong to have been so negative, how wrong to have been gloomy, how wrong to have run away from life, how wrong to have said no, again and again, instead of yes: she had to tell him all of this, every single day.”

“There is nothing wrong for a man to be in the kitchen and cook. There is nothing wrong for a man to like flowers. There is nothing wrong for a man to carry a baby. There is nothing wrong for a man to do house chores. There is nothing wrong for a man to visit a beauty salon. But there is something wrong if anyone of us feels it is not right for him to do any of these.”

“There were days when she’d open her eyes and be him for six hours in a row; she knew all his secrets and nothing he had done seemed wrong to her, she knew how it was, how things had been, she was there. There were days when he touched the tip of her nose and it was enough, a miracle of plenty.But who finds happiness interesting?”

“Nothing is completely wrong, even a broken clock is right twice a day.”

“Nothing in the world is ever completely wrong. Even a stopped clock is right twice a day.”