Had it taken her this long to discover that she lacked some simple mental trick that everyone else had, a mechanism so ordinary that no one ever mentioned it, an immediate sensual connection to people and events, and to her own needs and desires? All these years she had lived in isolation within herself and, strangely, from herself, never wanting or daring to look back.

It marked the beginning and, of course, an end. At that moment a chapter, no, a whole stage of my closed. Had I known, and had there been a spare second or two, I might have allowed myself a little nostalgia.

Most of humanity gets by without reading novels or poetry, and no one would deny the richness of their thoughts.

How can a novelist achieve atonement when, with her absolute power of deciding outcomes, she is also God?

It was common enough, to see so much death and want a child. Common, therefore human, and he wanted it all the more. When the wounded were screaming, you dreamed of sharing a little house somewhere, of an ordinary life, a family line, connection.

At the back of my mind I had a sense of us sitting about waiting for some terrible event, and then I would remember that it had already happened.

When its gone, you'll know what a gift love was. you'll suffer like this. So go back and fight to keep it.