a writer is a foreign country
Oh, how good it is to be with someone, sometimes.
Nowhere is one more alone than in Paris ... and yet surrounded by crowds. Nowhere is one more likely to incur greater ridicule. And no visit is more essential.
When the past is recaptured by the imagination, breath is put back into life.
It was the men I deceived the most that I loved the most.
What she said was always strange. It had happened long ago. It seemed insignificant. And yet it was something you remembered forever. The words as well as the story. The voice as much as the words.