If I weren't a writer, I'd be a psychiatrist.

The woman I was seems hopelessly naive. I envy her.

I don't think of my characters as people I create, I think of them more as people I have met and whom I'm exploring on the page. I don't actually think of myself as having 'created' any of these people.

Denial: my family heritage. If you don't ask the questions, the truth will never inconvenience you.

Love accepts. Forgiveness comes in time.

In the end, I cared about him so much that I just thought he deserved someone who loved him more than I did.

Even if someone is overcome with rage, it takes amazing arrogance to kill.