Who knows what part we play in other people's dreams?

My second husband and I were going through a bitter divorce, and I didn't have the money for a fancy-pants attorney. I didn't know how to fight, so I'd lie awake at night and think of ways to kill him. But I knew I'd get caught, so I decided to put it in a book and get paid for it! I always think it's odd that a whole career came out of that homicidal impulse.

Age plays cruel tricks on the human face; all our repressed feelings become visible on the surface, where they harden like a mask.

I was an English major in college with minors in Fine Arts and Humanities.

Perhaps when we're forced to forfeit what we own, we lose any sentimental associations. Perhaps pawning our valuables frees us in the same way a house fire destroys not only our worldly goods, but our attachment to what's gone.

I figure guys are like Whitman's Samplers. I like to take a little bite out of each and then move on before the whole box gets stale.

Life was reduced to its four basic elements: air, food, drink, and a good friend.