All Good Novelists Have Bad Memories.

She Was Not Too Young To Be Wise, But She Was Too Young To Know That Wisdom Shouldn't Be Spoken Aloud When You Are Happy.

Beauty Is Like Success: We Can't Love It For Long.

There Is A Point Of No Return, Unremarked At The Time, In Most Lives.

She Had Lost All Our Memories For Ever, And It Was As Though By Dying She Had Robbed Me Of Part Of Myself. I Was Losing My Individuality. It Was The First Stage Of My Own Death, The Memories Dropping Off Like Gangrened Limbs.

There Is Always One Moment In Childhood When The Door Opens And Lets The Future In.