I Have No Place Left To Live

There Are So Few People Given Us To Love. I Want To Tell My Daughters This, That Each Time You Fall In Love It Is Important, Even At Nineteen. Especially At Nineteen. And If You Can, At Nineteen, Count The People You Love On One Hand, You Will Not, At Forty, Have Run Out Of Fingers On The Other. There Are So Few People Given Us To Love And They All Stick.

We Have Lost The Art Of Public Tenderness, These Small Gestures Of Wiping And Washing; We Have Forgotten How Abjectly The Body Welcomes A Formal Touch.

I Do Not Think We Remember Our Family In Any Real Sense. We Live In Them Instead

I've Heard People, Usually Writers, Say That No One Wrote A Great Book After Winning The Booker, But I Honestly Did Not Feel Any Big Pressure. The Gathering Did Hang Over Me In That It Was Darker Than I Thought At The Time.

There Are Little Thoughts In Your Head That Can Grow Until They Eat Your Entire Mind. Just Tiny Little Thoughts--they Are Like A Cancer, There Is No Telling What Triggers The Spread, Or Who Will Be Struck, And Why Some Get It And Others Are Spared.