I'm a huge planner, more and more so as the years go by.

The sound of the pages turning was the sound of magic. The dry liquid feel of paper under fingertips was what magic felt like.

I am clumsy, a late and nervous driver, and despise all sports except a little gentle dancing or yoga.

People are locked up in all sorts of ways.

The way to my heart is through Belgian milk chocolate.

So much as I enjoy big novels of epic sweep, I often find, say, if they follow several generations, by the third generation, I'm not caring about the people anymore.

In the world I notice persons are nearly always stressed and have no time...I don't know how persons with jobs do the jobs and all the living as well...I guess the time gets spread very thin like butter all over the world, the roads and houses and playgrounds and stores, so there's only a little smear of time on each place, then everyone has to hurry on to the next bit.