Anyway, the sort of love that will not wait is probably best to pass by

I read "The Group" by Mary McCarthy. It had tons of sex in it, or so I thought at the time.

I feel more influenced in my own work by dreams than I do by other writers' works in a way. Or by popular culture, movies - what else is there to write about than love and loss?

I love fairy tales and feel very affected by them.

If every life is a river, then it's little wonder that we do not even notice the changes that occur until we are far out in the darkest sea. One day you look around and nothing is familiar, not even your own face. My name once meant daughter, grandaughter, friend, sister, beloved. Now those words mean only what their letters spell out; Star in the night sky. Truth in the darkness. I have crossed over to a place where I never thought I'd be. I am someone I would have never imagined. A secret. A dream. I am this, body and soul. Burn me. Drown me. Tell me lies. I will still be who I am.

I wasn't quite as certain that I knew her soul. When it came right down to it, I wasn't sure she knew me either.

It's not finding what's lost, it's understanding what you've found.