We Are Not Damned. We Never Were.

But During All These Years I Had A Vague But Persistent Desire To Return To New Orleans. I Never Forgot New Orleans. And When We Were In Tropical Places And Places Of Those Flowers And Trees That Grow In Louisiana, I Would Think Of It Acutely And I Would Feel For My Home The Only Glimmer Of Desire I Felt For Anything Outside My Endless Pursuit Of Art.

The Fact That I Loved You Was The Greatest Lie I Have Ever Lived.

And My Heart Beat Faster For The Mountains Of Eastern Europe, Finally, Beat Faster For The One Hope That Somewhere We Might Find In That Primitive Countryside The Answer To Why Under God This Suffering Was Allowed To Exist - Why Under God It Was Allowed To Begin, And How Under God It Might Be Ended. I Had Not The Courage To End It, I Knew, Without That Answer.

Obviously, A Writer Can't Know Everything About What She Writes. It's Impossible.

...what Was The Good Of Being A Movie Werewolf? You Howled At The Moon; You Couldn't Remember What You Did, And Then Somebody Shot You.