I Wish Our Love Was Right Now.

The Tales We Tell Ourselves About Ourselves Makes Us Who We Are.

The Minute Our Correspondence Becomes Obligatory, There's No Point In Keeping Touch At All.

It Just Makes Me Wonder What Subject You Blame For Talking To Me Every Night.' I'm Still Settling On An Answer For That One. Probably Chemistry. Jesus Christ. I Can't Believe I Just Wrote That.

I Do So Much Revising As I Go Along; I Wonder How I Could Write Books If I Hadn't Grown Up In The Computer Age. I Think I'd Be A Very Different Writer. I Find Myself Cutting And Pasting, Changing Things Around And Deleting Whole Paragraphs Constantly.

He Always Loved Her Because Of, Not In Sprite Of, Her Flaws.