As a writer, you live in such isolation. It's hard to imagine your book has a life beyond you.
She remembered me.' This was his worst weakness, his most toxic drug.
All I could think to do was love her. That's all a person can do.
What you leave behind is the people you loved. You leave yourself in them.
It was funny to hear her voice aloud. Her thoughts and perceptions usually existed so deep inside her, they rarely made it to the surface without a deliberate effort.
It's so much easier to have no expectations than to have big ones.