There was one thing my murderer didn't understand; he didn't understand how much a father could love his child.

Please don't let Daddy die Susie," he whispered. "I need him.

But also I wanted him to go away and leave me be. I was granted one weak grace. Back in the room where the green chair was still warm from his body, I blew that lonely, flickering candle out

Loss could be used as a measure of beauty in a woman.

He would find his Susie,inside his young son. Give that love to the living.

It's something that I know how to do because I taught for a very long time, so I can do it, and I feel a responsibility to do it - for instance, in this situation, where I'm touring specifically for this period of time. But most writers are not public people. There are a few writers out there who really enjoy it and are good at it, and can both work and do that at the same time, but I'm not one of those people.

I like gardening - it's a place where I find myself when I need to lose myself.