Suppose you meet me in the woods.

There is absolutely everything in great fiction but a clear answer.

The events in our lives happen in a sequence in time, but in their significance to ourselves they find their own order the continuous thread of revelation.

Every story would be another story, and unrecognizable if it took up its characters and plot and happened somewhere else ... Fiction depends for its life on place. Place is the crossroads of circumstance, the proving ground of, What happened? Who's here? Who's coming?

Suppose you meet me in the woods.

She read Dickens in the spirit in which she would have eloped with him.

All experience is an enrichment rather than an impoverishment.