When I started to be a writer, I was not going to run the risk of boring you.

It's not always to the benefit of the story to have it so preordained.

The heart's in it then, spinning dreams, and torment is on the way. The heart makes dreams seem like ideas.

Ree, brunette and sixteen, with milk skin and abrupt green eyes, stood bare-armed in a fluttering yellowed dress, face to the wind, her cheeks reddening as if smacked and smacked again.

When I left Iowa, I definitely never wanted to stand in front of a group of academics again and see if they approved of me. I made up my mind to take my work to the actual reading public.

This is how sudden things happened that haunted forever.

I said shut up once already, with my mouth.