Once you let people know anything about what you think, that's it, you're dead. Then they'll be jumping about in your mind, taking things out, holding them up to the light and killing them, yes, killing them, because thoughts are supposed to stay and grow in quiet, dark places, like butterflies in cocoons.

Solitary people, these book lovers. I think it's swell that there are people you don't have to worry about when you don't see them for a long time, you don't have to wonder what they do, how they're getting along with themselves. You just know that they're all right, and probably doing something they like.

I think, basically, what I'm good for is reading - a lot.

Nobody ever warned me about mirrors, so for many years I was fond of them, and believed them to be trustworthy. . .

There were days when he touched the tip of her nose and it was enough, a miracle of plenty.

And she walked away, and she walked away, and that was that, and that was that.

I dont have a style. I just try to write what the story demands.