I was here on earth because I chose to be.
It was a splendid summer morning and it seemed as if nothing could go wrong.
Without a reader, I cannot write. It's like a kiss: they cannot be done alone.
When the beginnings of self destruction enter the heart, it seems no bigger than a grain of sand.
Falsehood is a critical element in fiction. Part of the thrill of being told a story is the chance of being hoodwinked. . .The telling of lies is a sort of sleight of hand that displays our deepest feelings about life.
Homesickness is nothing. Fifty percent of the people in the world are homesick all the time.