There’s something about hospital walls; though only made of bricks and plaster, when you’re inside them the noise, the reality of the teeming city beyond, disappears; it’s just outside the door, but it might as well be a magical land far, far away.

His words had tossed the book that was her life into the air and the pages had been blown into disarray, could never be put back together to tell the same story.

I love the structural part of the writing process.

I sound contemptuous, but I am not. I am interested--intrigued even--by the way time erases real lives, leaving only vague imprints. Blood and spirit fade away so that only names and dates remain.

She hadn't wanted to be loved carefully, only well.

Only people unhappy in the present seek to know the future.

Always remember, with a strong enough will, even the weak can wield great power.