Love, when it came and knocked on my door, was going to be enough. And that unknown author who'd written that if you had fame, it was not enough, and if you had wealth as well, it was still not enough, and if you had fame, wealth, and also love ... still it was not enough - boy, did I feel sorry for him.

We lived in the attic, Christopher, Cory, Carrie, and me, Now there are only three.

Beauty thinks it needs no talent and can feed on itself, so it soon dies.

I don't think she's ever coming back.

There is no hate such as that born out of love betrayed- and my brain screamed out for revenge.

It was the eyes. The secret of love was in the eyes. The way one person looked at another, the way eyes communicated and spoke when the lips never moved.

The creative genius begins in the idle moment, dreaming up the impossible, and later making it come true.