She had only one flaw. She was perfect, otherwise whe was perfect.

He’d always been willing to confess his faults, for, by admitting them, it was as if he made them no longer exist.

There were hints of sunrise on the rim of the sky, yet it was still dark, and the traces of morning color were like goldfish swimming in ink.

I live in Brooklyn. By choice. Those ignorant of its allures are entitled to wonder why.

What I do requires fantastic concentration... but you can't be totally alone, or you lose all contact with reality, so even when I'm engrossed and secluded, Jack Dunphy can be there. He's my oldest and best friend, and best critic too.

I'm not a character in any of my books.

Gasping for breath, the body still battling for life.