Sometimes you have to live in precarious and temporary places. Unsuitable places. Wrong places. Sometimes the safe place won't help you.

Trust me, I'm telling you stories.

Our own front door can be a wonderful thing, or a sight we dread; rarely is it only a door.

She hated being a nobody and like all children, adopted or not, I have had to live out some of her unlived life. We do that for our parents - we don't really have any choice.

I’m not club-able, you see. I don’t like literary parties and literary gatherings and literary identities. I’d hate to join anything, however loosely.

The free man never thinks of escape.

It's hard to remember that this day will never come again. That the time is now and the place is here and that there are no second chances at a single moment.