Over The City Lies The Sweet, Rotting

I Am Usually Protective Of My Work, Not Showing It To Anyone Until It Has Been Redrafted And Polished.

Why Are We So Attached To The Severities Of The Past? Why Are We So Proud Of Having Endured Our Fathers And Our Mothers, The Fireless Days And The Meatless Days, The Cold Winters And The Sharp Tongues? It's Not As If We Had A Choice.

A Novel Should Be A Book Of Questions, Not A Book Of Answers.

He Turns To The Painting. "i Fear Mark Was Right." "who Is Mark?" "a Silly Little Boy Who Runs After George Boleyn. I Once Heard Him Say I Looked Like A Murderer." Gregory Says, "did You Not Know?

Florence And Milan Had Given Him Ideas More Flexible Than Those Of People Who'd Stayed At Home.