Quotes About Author

Unlike so many of my friends, I did not ache with longing whenever I saw an infant. (Though I did ache with longing, it is true, whenever I saw a good used-book shop.)

The man is a perfect dragon for protocol.

I'm damn sure not going to rent a place—what am I, an immigrant?

Katie Arnold-Ratliff. Katie writes like a dream. But she told me that she'd

I got letters saying, I detest everything about you, and I got letters saying, You have written my bible. Imagine if I'd tried to create a definition of myself based on any of these reactions. I didn't try. And

that all the sorrow and trouble of this world is caused by unhappy people. Not only in the big global Hitler-'n'-

Psychologists call that state of deluded madness narcissistic love. I call it my twenties.

I choose to trust that inspiration is always nearby, the whole time I'm working, trying its damnedest to impart assistance. [...] Sometimes we have trouble understanding each other. But inspiration is still sitting there right beside me, and it is trying.

I'm not a virgin, Jim," I repeated—as though the problem had been that he hadn't heard me correctly the first time. He sat up and stared ahead for a long time, collecting himself. Quietly, I put my shirt back on. This is not the sort of conversation that you want to be having while your boobs are hanging out.

You don't get any special credit, is what I'm saying, for knowing how to be afraid of the unknown. Fear is a deeply ancient instinct, in other words, and an evolutionarily vital one . . . but it ain't especially smart.

A whole bunch of people had some opinions about my novel for a short while, and then everyone moved on, because people are busy and they have their own lives to think about.

I have nothing against any of these terms. I feel they are all equal because they are all equally adequate and inadequate descriptions of the indescribable.

It was a decision that left nobody happy- which is what my father might have called a successful business negotiation.

Her prose was a hammer; Darwin's was a psalm.

Anything can get tedious after enough time, Angela—even watching heartbreaking acts of naked vulnerability.

His spelling was several degrees beyond arbitrary, and his punctuation brought reason to sigh with unhappiness. But

to unfold a certain beauty and transcendence within her life that she cannot seem to access in any other manner.

Whenever anybody tells me they want to write a book in order to help other people, I always think, Oh, please don't. Please don't try to help me.

It might've been my fichu. -Patricia to Lucy about her engagement to vicar Penweeble.

He grinned, but a bead of sweat ran down his temple. "Then with your permission.

For a moment she stared at him, panting, breathless and wordless, it seemed, with rage. He'd had no idea she would respond to his capture of her queen so violently. It was rather arousing.

Anna Wren was not for him. She was of a different class than he, and, moreover, she was a respectable widow from the village. She wasn't a sophisticated society lady who might consider a liaison outside of wedlock.

Have you come to kidnap me?" Her voice emerged a whisper, though she hadn't consciously thought to lower it. "If so, I hope you'll do me the courtesy of letting me put on a wrap first.

These are works of history about your century, the twentieth. A fine century-I look forward to the rest of it.