Arguing with a dead man in a lavatory is a claustrophobic experience.

Not everything people did could be in a correct, logical order, especially when they were alone.

Writing a novel resembles a journey with only the sketchiest of maps.

Reading groups, readings, breakdowns of book sales all tell the same story: when women stop reading, the novel will be dead.

If life was a dream, then dying must be the moment when you woke up. It was so simple it must be true. You died, the dream was over, you woke up. That's what people meant when they talked about going to heaven. It was like waking up.

She lay in the dark and knew everything.

Finally, you had to measure yourself by other people - there really was nothing else. every now and then, quite unintentionally, someone taught you something about yourself.