And if all of us are play-acting, there can be no such thing as a soul mate, because we don't have genuine souls.

Sometimes I think illness sits inside every woman, waiting for the right moment to bloom. I have known so many sick women all my life. Women with chronic pain, with ever-gestating diseases. Women with conditions. Men, sure, they have bone snaps, they have backaches, they have a surgery or two, yank out a tonsil, insert a shiny plastic hip. Women get consumed.

Ah, well, being conflicted means you can live a shallow life without copping to be a shallow person.

I'd come to believe there was no food more depressing than Danish, a pastry that seemed stale upon arrival

I think mystery writers and thriller writers - whatever genre you want to call it - are taking on some of the biggest, most interesting kind of socioeconomic issues around in a really interesting, compelling way.

To spend a life in dreams, that sounded too lovely.

I can't think of anything more crushing than slowly, over time, realizing exactly how wrong you were about someone.