It's good to be in love.

Short on money, long on hope

He had never even glimpsed her.

...bleak territory of the heart.

Grief, it seemed, was a physical place.

Either things grow and change or they die.

I love to swim, and I love being near water.

A moment might be a thousand different things.

It's funny how things seem different, suddenly.

I like clothes that are elegant and comfortable.

Twin threads ran through her: fear and excitement.

I've been accused of trying too hard to rescue people

No one could suspect the intricate mysteries of her heart.

Once, this whole world had been hidden beneath a shallow sea.

He wished he had some kind of X-ray vision for the human heart.

After all these years, I feel so free. Who knows where I might fly?

You missed a lot of heartache, sure. But David, you missed a lot of joy.

The place was a familiar as breath but as far from his life now as the moon.

They turned a distracted gaze on the world, wide-eyed, somehow, and questioning.

Photography is all about secrets... The secrets we all have and will never tell.

Though my stories aren't autobiographical, I do sometimes use things from my life.

She saw herself moving through another life, an exotic, difficult, satisfying life.

It seemed there was no end at all to the lies a person could tell, once she got started.

His love for her was so deeply woven with resentment that he could not untangle the two.

A fear Paul had transformed all these years, like a gifted alchemist, into anger and rebellion.

'Middlesex' by Jeffrey Eugenides left me both moved and, at times, laughing out loud in delight.

I had a great life even before 'The Memory Keeper's Daughter' took off. I really enjoy teaching.

Lately, the world felt fragile, like a blown egg, as if it might shatter beneath a careless touch.

You can't stop time. You can't capture light. You can only turn your face up and let it rain down.

William Trevor is an author I admire; his stories are subtle and powerful, and beautifully written.

That there were other worlds, invisible, unknown, beyond imagination even, was a revelation to him.

We all have secrets. We've all kept secrets. We've had secrets kept from us, and we know how that feels.

She had died at age twelve, and by now she was nothing but the memory of love-- nothing, now, but bones.

Away from the bright motion of the party, she carried her sadness like a dark stone clenched in her palm.

Norah watched him, serious and utterly absorbed in his task, overcome by the simple fact of his existence.

There was something not quite right about her eagerness, an eerie kind of voyeurism in her need for bad news.

I like to think I've grown as a writer and taken some risks, but I still consider myself to be a literary writer.

It wasn't right. He knew that, but it was like falling: once you started you couldn't stop until something stopped you.

There was a sense that there was a lot of word of mouth happening with 'The Memory Keeper's Daughter,' even in hardcover.

You don't know when you are immersed in a book what the reaction to it will be, but I feel great about 'The Lake of Dreams.'

Each letter has a shape, she told them, one shape in the world and no other, and it is your responsibility to make it perfect.

She didn't love him and he didn't love her; she was like an addiction, and what they were doing had a darkness to it, a weight.

He'd kept this silence because his own secrets were darker, more hidden, and because he believed that his secrets had created hers.

You don't want to engage in road rage when the person in the next car might be your child's future teacher or your dentist's father.

A moment was not a single moment at all, but rather an infinite number of different moments, depending on who was seeing things and how.

The Lake of Dreams grew gradually, over many years, elements and ideas accruing until they gained enough critical mass to become a novel.

...and the distance between them, millimeters only, the space of a breath, opened up and deepened, became a cavern at whose edge he stood.

'The Lake of Dreams' grew gradually, over many years, elements and ideas accruing until they gained enough critical mass to become a novel.

Your understanding of a place changes the longer you stay; you discover more, and your own life gets woven into the fabric of the community.

You can't spend the rest of your life tiptoeing around to try and avert disaster. It won't work. You'll just end up missing the life you have.

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