Ultimately, you can only ever write what you know. It's logically and philosophically impossible to write what you don't know.

The world spins. We stumble on. It is enough.

Yet she likes complications. She wishes she could turn and say: I like people who unbalance me.

I gave them all the truth and none of the honesty.

Ultimately, you can only ever write what you know. It's logically and philosophically impossible to write what you don't know.

Even if people laughed at the notion of goodness, if they found it sentimental, or nostalgic, it didn't matter -- it was none of those things, he said, and it had to be fought for.

I think a good novel can be a doorstop to despair. I also think the real bravery comes with those who prepared to go through that door and look at the world in all its grime and torment, and still find something of value, no matter how small.