How many people ask you to come share their life?

Being in the library is so addictive for me that I really have to exercise self-control so I can get some writing done at home.

I took the volume to a table, opened its soft, ivory pages... and fell into it as into a pool during dry season.

We don't have a unitary society anymore, you know; it's very fragmented. I look up and down my block in Silverlake and there is a different universe in every house.

I thought of my mother as Queen Christina, cool and sad, eyes trained on some distant horizon. That was where she belonged, in furs and palaces of rare treasures, fireplaces large enough to roast a reindeer, ships of Swedish maple.

this was the wonderful thing about strangers. they were big blank pieces of paper, you could draw watever you like on their impresionable surfaces

Memory is the fourth dimension to any landscape.