Rachel Cusk's books are like pop-up volumes for grown-ups, the prose springing out of the page to bop you neatly between the eyes with its insights.

Nicole Kidman in particular seems to bring out the butt-kisser in the sassiest of hackettes, as they ceaselessly strive to portray her as some sort of cross between Mother Teresa and Marilyn Monroe.

Show me a frigid women and, nine times out of ten, I'll show you a little man.

Saying everything is okay doesn't make you a grown-up.

Telling an adult to go see something for themselves always works. They never take your word for it. They always, always, have to go see, and Hungry was no different.

Only children believe they're capable of everything.
They're trusting and fearless; they believe in their own power and get exactly what they want.
When children grow up, they start to realize that they're not as powerful as they thought and that they need other people in order survive.
Then the child begins to love and to hope his love will be requited; and as life goes on, he develops an ever-greater need to be loved in return, even if that means having to give up his power.
We all end up where we are now:
Grown-ups doing everything we can to be accepted and loved.