I Wondered About The Half-life Of Regret.

The People In This House, I Felt, And I Included Myself, Were Like Characters Each From A Different Grim And Gruesome Fairy Tale. None Of Us Was In The Same Story. We Were All Grotesques, And Self-riveted, But In Separate Narratives, And So Our Interactions Seemed Weird And Richly Meaningless, Like The Characters In A Tennessee Williams Play, With Their Bursting Unimportant, But Spell-bindingly Mad Speeches.

Love Is A Fever," She Said. "and When You Come Out Of It You'll Discover Whether You've Been Lucky - Or Not.

There Seemed Nothing So True As A Yellow Tree.

I Want To Pretend There's Such A Thing As Requited Love. As The Endurance Of Love.

A Novel Is A Daily Labor Over A Period Of Years. A Novel Is A Job. But A Story Can Be Like A Mad, Lovely Visitor, With Whom You Spend A Rather Exciting Weekend.