Being a writer is a solitary life. So the little part of me that's an actor still enjoys the theatrical part of reading and doing the voices and telling the story.

She was a large, disordered woman, like a child's drawing that didn't stay within the lines.

But what humans forget, cells remember. The body, that elephant

We knew, finally, that the girls were really women in disguise, that they understood love and even death, and that our job was merely to create the noise that seemed to fascinate them.

To start with, look at all the books.

What if you had faith and performed good works, what if you died and went to heaven, and what if all the people you met there were people you didn't like?

At night the cries of cats making love or fighting, their caterwauling in the dark, told us that the world was pure emotion, flung back and forth among its creatures, the agony of the one-eyed Siamese no different from that of the Lisbon girls, and even the trees plunged in feeling.