I prefer to underwrite. Simple, clear as a country creek.

Most contemporary novelists, especially the American and the French, are too subjective, mesmerized by private demons; theyre enraptured by their navels and confined by a view that ends with their own toes.

She was a triumph over ugliness, so often more beguiling than real beauty, if only because it contains paradox.

Oh Jesus God we did belong to each other. He was mine.

Oh, I adore to cook. It makes me feel so mindless in a worthwhile way.

Home is where you feel at home. I'm still looking.

I suppose you think I'm very brazen. Or très fou. Or something.' Not at all.' She seemed disappointed. 'Yes, you do. Everybody does. I don't mind. It's useful.