By measuring individual human worth, the novelist reveals the full enormity of the State
No one knows anything, really. It's all rented, or borrowed.
Novels without female characters were a lifeless desert.
The luxury of being half-asleep, exploring the fringes of psychosis in safety.
Dearest Cecilia, You’d be forgiven for thinking me mad, the way I acted this afternoon. The truth is I feel rather light headed and foolish in your presence, Cee, and I don’t think I can blame the heat.
Above all, she wanted to look as though she had not given the matter a moment's thought, and that would take time.