I thought this man had long ago drained everything from my heart. But now something strong and bitter flowed and made me feel another emptiness in a place I didn't know was there. I cursed this man aloud so he could hear. You had dog eyes. You jumped and followed whoever called you. Now you chase your own tail.

I started a second novel seven times and I had to throw them away.

We all hate moral ambiguity in some sense, and yet it is also absolutely necessary. In writing a story, it is the place where I begin.

And then she had to fill out so many forms she forgot why she had come and what she had left behind.

I was intelligent enough to make up my own mind. I not only had freedom of choice, I had freedom of expression.

Among writers, if you don't have a therapist, it's like saying you don't keep a journal or use the thesaurus. It's a natural accompaniment.

They know where happiness lies, not in a cave or a country, but in love and the freedom to give and take what has been there all along.