It Was Like Having A Box Of

I Had Committed Myself: Without Love I'd Have To Go Through The Gestures Of Love.

One's Life Is More Formed, I Sometimes Think, By Books Than By Human Beings: It Is Out Of Books One Learns About Love And Pain At Second Hand.

As Long As One Suffers One Lives.

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

So Much Of A Novelist's Writing, As I Have Said, Takes Place In The Unconscious: In Those Depths The Last Word Is Written Before The First Word Appears On The Paper. We Remember Details Of Our Story, We Do Not Invent Them.