Anger... it's a paralyzing emotion... you can't get anything done.

When am I happy and when am I sad and what is the difference? What do I need to know to stay alive? What is true in the world?

I thought the whole world was like Lorain.

You have to be willing to think the unthinkable.

The Administration of the United States is such dread I almost feel paralyzed.

In fact her maturity and blood kinship converted her passion to fever, so it was more affliction than affection. It literally knocked her down at night, and raised her up in the morning, for when she dragged herself off to bed, having spent another day without his presence, her heart beat like a gloved fist against her ribs. And in the morning, long before she was fully awake, she felt a longing so bitter and tight it yanked her out of a sleep swept clean of dreams.

Some literature is knowledge, some is just data. But if I can get a "happy" ending - which is when for the characters I'm writing about, something happens that they move from wherever they are in the beginning to knowledge or wisdom, they know something they never would have acknowledged or realized if it hadn't been for my book - that for me is what literature does.