Gender mattered a whole lot less to Shakespeare than it seems to matter to us.

Nearly everything seems a letdown after a writer has finished writing something.

If we live long enough, we become caricatures of ourselves.

… but only because exhaustion is a life-sign; it is at least a form of being human.

Along the (writing) way accidents happen, detours get taken... But these are not "divine" accidents; I don't believe in those. I believe you have constructive accidents en route through a novel only because you have mapped a clear way. If you have confidence that you have a clear direction to take, you always have confidence to explore other ways; if they prove to be mere digressions, you'll recognize that and make the necessary revisions. The more you know about a book, the freer you can be to fool around. The less you know, the tighter you get.

How we love to love things for other people; how we love to have other people love things through our eyes.

Because who can describe that look that triggers the memory of loved ones? Who can anticipate the frown, the smile, or the misplaced lock of hair that sends a swift, undeniable signal from the past? Who can ever estimate the power of association, which is always strongest in moments of love and in memories of death?