“I think,' Stephen said, 'the worst thing about breaking up with someone who doesn't love you any more is that they aren't sad.”

“Lydia had met Stephen on a breast cancer charity fun run. She hadn't wanted to go on a fun run, because as far as Lydia was concerned, the words 'fun' and 'run' never, ever belonged in the same sentence.”

“David, do you think if I had just evacuated several litres of amniotic fluid under the table I wouldn't mention it?”

“Who's St Nicholas? I don't want him, I want Father Christmas!”

“You are so...' Will broke away, his rare unbridled smile, as he gazed at her, utterly charming. '...dressed.”

“It had by no means been the first time in her life that a man had finished with her, but it was the first time ever that he'd moved house and left the country to do it.”

“If you threw a brick at someone you would be responsible for them feeling pain, presumably,' Libby said. 'But if you do the right thing and it makes someone feel bad, isn't that their problem? Then again, how do you even know what the right thing is? Who decides?' 'It's so confusing. I am sure about Mark, but I was sure about Bob before that, and Richard before that. Maybe Mark isn't for ever, I just think he is now when I can't have him. I have to face up to this about myself. I fall in love like that.' She clicked her fingers. 'I always have. For other people, love is like some rare orchid that can only grow in one place under a certain set of conditions. For me it's like bindweed. It grows with no encouragement at all, under any conditions, and just strangles everything else. Good metaphor, huh?”