A landline is an anchor - busy signals, long distance bills, missed connections and all.

He tried to remember how this happened – how she went from someone he’d never met to the only one who mattered.

Your trash can is full of energy bar wrappers." "You were looking through my trash?

But the explanations fell apart in her hands. Everything true was too hard to write--he was too much to lose. Everything she felt for him was too hot to touch.

I just want to break that song into pieces and love them all to death.

For the first time in weeks, Park didn't have that anxious feeling in his stomach on the way home from school, like he had to soak up enough Eleanor to keep him until the next day.

I take something that happened to me in 1983, and I make it happen to somebody else in 1943. I pick my life apart that way, try to understand it better by writing straight through it.