It's similar to the way you feel cuddling an infant or a kitten, when you want to squeeze it so hard you'd kill it.

We are bound by the secrets we share.

For most people, honesty is such an unusual departure from their standard modus operandi - such an abherration in their workaday mendacity - that they feel obliged to alert you when a moment of sincerity is coming on.

If everybody was so reverent of the institute of marriage, how did all the adultery get committed?

I don't write books for people to be friends with the characters. If you want to find friends, go to a cocktail party.

When you live alone, your furnishings, your possessions, are always confronting you with the thinness of your existence.

...what is romance, but a mutual pact of delusion? When the pact ends , there's nothing left.