I was not ladylike, nor was I manly. I was something else altogether. There were so many different ways to be beautiful.

You can't find peace by avoiding life.

What I wanted to do seemed simple. I wanted something alive and shocking enough that it could be a morning in somebody's life. The most ordinary morning. Imagine, trying to do that.

. . . he felt himself entering a moment so real he could only run toward it, shouting.

I just don't feel much interested in the lifestyles of the rich and famous.

She could have had a life as potent and dangerous as literature itself.

She is not a writer at all, really; she is merely a gifted eccentric.