He'd kept this silence because his own secrets were darker, more hidden, and because he believed that his secrets had created hers.

After Memory Keepers Daughter, it took me a few months to shut out the world. I really had to turn off the Internet and sort of cloister myself away from the world again and sink into that psychic space to write again.

A moment was not a single moment at all, but rather an infinite number of different moments, depending on who was seeing things and how.

In some deep place in her heart, Caroline had kept alive the silly romantic notion that somehow David Henry had once known her as no one else ever could. But it was not true. He had never even glimpsed her.

She saw herself moving through another life, an exotic, difficult, satisfying life.

...so young, so lonely and naive, that she imagined herself as some sort of vessel to be filled up with love. But it wasn't like that. The love was within her all the time and its only renewal came from giving it away.

There was something not quite right about her eagerness, an eerie kind of voyeurism in her need for bad news.