Hate Is A Lack Of Imagination.

We'd Forgive Most Things If We Knew The Facts.

I Say That Home Is Where There Is A Chair And A Glass.

All Good Novelists Have Bad Memories.

You Think It More Difficult To Turn Air Into Wine Than To Turn Wine Into Blood?.

...and Yet Could Swear It Was Just Then That I Fell In Love. It Wasn't, Of Course, Simply The Onions -- It Was The Sudden Sense Of An Individual Woman, Of A Frankness That Was So Often Later To Make Me Happy And Miserable.