Men, she thought, were one of the world's few sure comforts, like a fire on a cold October night, like cocoa, like broken-in-slippers. Their clumsy affections, their bristly faces, and their willingness to do what needed to be done - cook an omelette, change lightbulbs, make with hugging - sometimes almost made being a woman fun.

I remind myself that no one day of writing matters all that much. A story is built somewhat like a stalactite - one little drip of mud and grit at a time.

I have nothing to say for myself, only that I have always tried to make this earth a little bit better

... people made the imaginary real all the time: taking the music they heard in their head and recording it, seeing a house in their imagination and building it. Fantasy was always only a reality waiting to be switched on.

And he paddled away in his douche canoe.

It bewildered Ig, the idea that a person could not be interested in music. It was like not being interested in happiness.

The best way to get even with anyone is to put them in the rearview mirror on your way to something better.