"his voice had a quality when he was displeased that regan had come to think of as humming. it sounded normal, pleasant, teasing, to most people, but when it took on that light singsong quality, she knew he was unhappy with her, and god, she was so tired of having her every move, every word, every decision scrutinized and found lacking."
"it was nothing, something a thousand husbands might say to their wives as mere flirtation or playful pouting, but to regan it was the latest in a litany of disappointments, accusatory glares, and criticisms veiled as suggestions from the man she was supposed to recognize was so much wiser than her. patronizing words he dropped one by one, like stones of the puritan punishment, that settled onto her chest, robbing her of breath, crushing her slowly and painfully. word after word had pressed, piled on top of one another, paralyzing in their heaviness, rendering hre incapable of speech, or protest and unable to defend herself, until she knew it was time to leave or lose her voice in her marriage forever."
"never right. she would never do it right. and he was always in control, of her, of her life."
"felix had no concept of how long he had been suspended in nothing... whether a day or a month or a year he coulndt say, only that he was slowyly and increasingly going mad, like camille had in the torture of her grief, every second an agonizing suspension of time, every moment endless in its nothingness.
there was no food, yet he wasnt hungry. no water, never thirsty. he had no need to relieve himself and no sexual desire, a strange physical lethargy coupled with acute discomfort stretching each minute that much longer. he was awaare of every inch of his body as a heavy, crushing burden, simply struggling to hold himself upright as weighty as balancing a tree trunk on his shoulders for months on end. no longer attempting to move, he hung, suspended, like a ham in the slaughterhouse, swaying."
"why do you always assume that anyone else's discomfort is your fault or responsibility?"