Sooner Or Later We All Lose Our

Every Minute We Were Together, I Felt Like I Was Wandering In The Dark Through A Strange House, Groping For A Light Switch. And Then, Whenever I Found One And Turned It On, The Bulb Was Dead.

If Anything, He Seemed A Little Lonely, All Too Ready To Open His Heart At The Slightest Sign Of Interst.

I'm Not Sure That It's Possible To Write A Novel About People Who Don't Transgress Or Stumble, People Who Don't Surprise Themselves With The Things They Do, People Who Can Explain All Their Actions With Perfect Logical Consistency. At Least It's Not Possible For Me To Write That Sort Of Novel.

It's Not The Cheating. It's The Hunger For An Alternative. The Refusal To Accept Unhappiness.

My Wife And I Left New York When She Got Pregnant - We Just Thought It Would Be Really Hard To Stay In The City.