Love remembered and consecrated by grief belongs, more clearly than the happy intercourse of friends, to the eternal world; it has proved itself stronger than death.
“Many women have told me they remember where they were when they read the book, and how they felt suddenly that what they really thought or felt about things made sense.”
“I would fix other people's lines if they asked me on occasion. The hard part of writing is the architecture of it, getting the story and structuring it. Not the tweaking of lines.”