Things always seem to glide away. They come to you, stay a moment, then leave again.

I find writing extremely difficult. I usually have to drag myself to my desk, mainly because I doubt myself. And it's getting harder because I want to improve with every book.

Why me?' I ask God. God says nothing. I laugh and the stars watch. It's good to be alive.

How'd it feel?" Rube asked himself. "I don't know exactly, but it made me want to howl.

We're silent now, both waiting, till I remind myself that I'm the older one and should therefore initiate conversation. But I don't. I don't want to waste this girl with idle chitchat. She's beautiful.

The scrawled words of practice stood magnificently on the wall by the stairs, jagged and childlike and sweet. They looked on as both the hidden Jew and the girl slept, hand to shoulder. They breathed. German and Jewish lungs.

There were stars. They burned my eyes.