I'm from a time and place where bigheadedness was a really savage crime, and you'd get cut down for it by your peers and parents.

Historically, unfortunately, race seems to be the major division that humanity has imposed on itself, a way of subdividing into smaller groups.

Assured her I've never loved anyone except myself and have no intention of starting now.

Writing is probably one-fifth coming up with the stuff, and four-fifths self-editing again and again and again.

As long as you can Houdini your way out of the Sisyphean constraints then originality happens.

Two people who are a little bit deluded in each other's favour. That's what love is, isn't it?

She has to lose her pre-Copernican view of a universe revolving around herself.