For me, a novel relying too heavily on a single idea might be a dry, deadly thing unless it possesses an animating force.

You had only one chance for a signature in life, but most people left no impression.

New teachers were just a part of life, for a few days after one arrived, squawks of interest were emitted from various corners, but then they died away as the teacher was absorbed like everyone else...before you knew it, the fresh ones seemed to have been teaching there forever too, or else they didn't last very long, and were gone before you'd gotten to know them.

It seemed that everywhere you went, people quickly adapted to the way they had to live, and called it Life.

And specialness - everyone wants it. But Jesus, is it the most essential thing there is? Most people aren't talented. So what are they supposed to do - kill themselves?

The child who was happy with herself meant the parents had won the jackpot.

Wasn't the whole point of being an artist, or at least part of it, that you didn't have to wear a tie?