Love had always issued out of the places that hurt the most.
The only way I could endure being a coward was if I was the only one who knew it.
Paranoia has a sharper taste if the danger is real.
She had so mastered the strategies of camouflage that her own history had seemed a series of well-placed mirrors that kept her hidden from herself.
But even her demons she invested with inordinate beauty, consecrated them with the dignity of her attention.
In Charleston, more than elsewhere, you get the feeling that the twentieth century is a vast, unconscionable mistake.