You're getting everyone's point of view at the same time, which for me, is the perfect state for a novel: a cubist state, the cubist novel.

Sadness is very close to hate.

Her hand touched me at the wrist. "If I gave you my life, you would drop it. Wouldn't you?" I didn't say anything.

Women want everything of a lover. And too often I would sink below the surface. So armies disappear under sand. And there was her fear of her husband, her belief in her honour, my old desire for self-sufficiency, my disappearances, her suspicions of me, my disbelief that she loved me. The paranoia and claustrophobia of hidden love.

In the book the relationship with Katharine and Almasy is sort of only in the patient's mind.

Most of the time in our world, truth is just opinion.

There always should be something hanging unfinished before a scene ends so that there's a reason for going to the next scene.