Now he knew why he loved her so. Without ever leaving the ground, she could fly. 'There must be another one like you,' he whispered to her. 'There's got to be at least one more woman like you.

What's the world for you if you can't make it up the way you want it?

My metaphor is that evil always has a top hat and a cape, and goodness is over there in the corner. For me it's just too easy, if you hate your country or your wife, so you kill them. You can't think through that, you can't feel through that, you can't do the work. And now we have guns. Solution? I don't think so.

I didn't fall in love, I rose in it.

Being able to laugh got me through.

If writing is thinking and discovery and selection and order and meaning, it is also awe and reverence and mystery and magic.

I couldn't bear to have people mispronounce my name. But the person I was was this person who was called Chloe.