We Were Exiles From Reality That Summer.

The Future Looks Like Gasoline. . . . Crude Oil . . . Is The Future Before It Has Been Refined. It Is Like A Dream Of The Future, Really, And Like Any Dream It Ends With A Rude Awakening.

Even For A Girl Like Me, Then, There Comes A Day When She Can Stop Surviving And Start Living. To Survive, You Have To Look Good Or Talk Good. But To End Your Story Well-- Here Is The Truth-- You Have To Talk Yourself Out Of It.

To Be Well In Your Mind You Have First To Be Free.

Everyone Carries The Weight Of Wwii With Them In Their Recent Family History, And Yet It Is Rarely Spoken About Within Families, Because Veterans And Survivors Don't Tend To Talk.

[my Maternal Grandmother ] Was A Teacher In London And Elsewhere During The War, Although The Children She Taught Were Not The "lost Children" Who Feature In The Novel - Those Come From My Research.