There was a desperate undercurrent to our marriage--a feeling of being in a dream from which I couldn't seem to awaken. A nagging sense that my life, laid out so neatly like the clothes Deirdre left on my divan, was no longer my own.

There was a desperate undercurrent to our marriage--a feeling of being in a dream from which I couldn't seem to awaken. A nagging sense that my life, laid out so neatly like the clothes Deirdre left on my divan, was no longer my own.

It's best to let her go," he says. No, no, that's wrong. It's never right to give up on someone.

Things will get worse before they get better.

The only characters I ever don't like are ones that leave no impression on me. And I don't write characters that leave no impression on me.

Home?' I say. It's a word that can mean anywhere and nowhere.

Childhood is a long, long road, from which that dark whispering forest of death seems an impossible destination.