one blow in anger [would] kill, probably, a child from aged two to eight. Those over eight would take two blows to kill.

Anticipation! It occurred to him that his anticipation was more pleasant to him than the experiencing.

I have no television - I hate it.

I can't write if someone else is in the house, not even the cleaning woman.

What was it to love someone, what was love exactly, and why did it end or not end? Those were the real questions, and who could answer them?

Honestly, I don't understand why people get so worked up about a little murder!

But there was not a moment when she did not see Carol in her mind, and all she saw, she seemed to see through Carol. That evening, the dark flat streets of New York, the tomorrow of work, the milk bottle dropped and broken in her sink, became unimportant. She flung herself on her bed and drew a line with a pencil on a piece of paper. And another line, carefully, and another. A world was born around her, like a bright forest with a million shimmering leaves.