This Is What You Do. You Make

I Know, Speaking For Myself, No Matter What I'm Able To Do, No Matter What Book Comes Out And Ends Up On Paper, I Always Had Something Bigger And Grander In My Head.

I Don't Know If I Can Face This. You Know. The Party And The Ceremony, And Then The Hour After That, And The Hour After That." "you Don't Have To Go To The Party. You Don't Have To Go To The Ceremony. You Don't Have To Do Anything At All." "but There Are Still The Hours, Aren't There? One And Then Another, And You Get Through That One And Then, My God, There's Another. I'm So Sick.

Like My Hero Virginia Woolf, I Do Lack Confidence. I Always Find That The Novel I'm Finishing, Even If It's Turned Out Fairly Well, Is Not The Novel I Had In My Mind. I Think A Lot Of Writers Must Negotiate This, And If They Don't Admit It, They're Not Being Honest.

I Have No Useful Theories About Love And Marriage.

You Grow Weary Of Being Treated As The Enemy Simply Because You Are Not Young Anymore; Because You Dress Unexceptionally.