One Blow In Anger [would] Kill, Probably,

I Can't Write If Someone Else Is In The House, Not Even The Cleaning Woman.

The Night Was A Time For Bestial Affinities, For Drawing Closer To Oneself.

When I Am Thickening My Plots, I Like To Think 'what If ... What If ... ' Thus My Imagination Can Move From The Likely, Which Everyone Can Think Of, To The Unlikely-but-possible, My Preferred Plot.

How Was It Possible To Be Afraid And In Love... The Two Things Did Not Go Together. How Was It Possible To Be Afraid, When The Two Of Them Grew Stronger Together Every Day? And Every Night. Every Night Was Different, And Every Morning. Together They Possessed A Miracle.

One Blow In Anger [would] Kill, Probably, A Child From Aged Two To Eight. Those Over Eight Would Take Two Blows To Kill.