Valley of the Dolls

He was a stranger now, bound to her by law but belonging to someone else. Yet she loved him.

Maybe I never knew . . . maybe I dreamed him into an image.

I can hardly look at him without wanting to reach out and touch him.

If I could only sleep, really sleep—like for a week—then I’d be all right.

She was lying on the bed, in her most beautiful dress and full stage makeup, clutching an empty bottle of sleeping pills.

She had wanted to be close to him every second, to crawl inside his thoughts. . . .

“I don’t think there will be anyone else who really matters,”

home is where the heart is

If a woman has money, nothing can ever hurt her.

Everything seemed to be crumbling around her. She was hurting everyone—most of all herself.