I don't plot the books out ahead of time, I don't plan them. I don't begin at the beginning and end at the end. I don't work with an outline and I don't work in a straight line.

I can bear pain myself, he said softly, but I couldna bear yours. That would take more strength than I have.

No wonder men got impervious to superficial pain, I thought. It came from this habit of hammering each other incessantly.

You could tell from the books whether a library was meant for show or not. Books that were used had an open, interested feel to them, even if closed and neatly lined up on a shelf in strict order with their fellows. You felt as though the book took as much interest in you as you did in it and was willing to help when you reached for it.

I had one last try. "Does it bother you that I'm not a virgin?" He hesitated a moment before answering. "Well, no," he said slowly, "so long as it doesna bother you that I am." He grinned at my drop-jawed expression, and backed toward the door. "Reckon one of us should know what they're doing," he said. The door closed softly behind him; clearly the courtship was over.

Well, I can't remember not being able to read. I was told I could read by myself very well at the age of three.

...sitting and waiting is one of the most miserable occupations known to man - not that it usually is known to men; women do it much more often.