My soul was a burden, bruised and bleeding. It was tired of the man who carried it, but I found no place to set it down to rest. Neither the charm of the countryside nor the sweet scents of a garden could soothe it. It found no peace in song or laughter, none in the company of friends at table or in the pleasures of love, none even in books or poetry.... Where could my heart find refuge from itself? Where could I go, yet leave myself behind?

If the book is true, it will find an audience that is meant to read it.

A woman who surrenders her freedom need not surrender her dignity.

I try to stick with what moves me or teaches me about myself, same thing I hope the novels do for others.

I love the most the students with troubled lives.

Eastern Connecticut is very different from Western; we're more liverwurst than pâté, more bowling than polo.

The roundness of life's design may be a sign that there is a presence beyond ourselves.