Life Wasn't About Becoming, Was It? It

(although Anyone With Half A Brain Must Surely Be Mired In Existential Gloom All The Time)

She Was A Terrible Mother, There Was No Doubt About It, But She Didn't Even Have The Strength To Feel Guilty.

I Don't Have Goals When Writing Books, Apart From Getting To The End. I Have Rather Vague Ideas About How I Want Things To Feel, I'm Big On Ambience. I Have A Title, A Beginning And A Probable Ending And Go From There.

They Said Love Made You Strong, But In Louise's Opinion It Made You Weak. It Corkscrewed Into Your Heart And You Couldn't Get It Out Again, Not Without Ripping Your Heart To Pieces.

Some People Spend Their Whole Lives Looking For Themselves, Yet Our Self Is The One Thing We Surely Cannot Lose (how Like A Cheap Philosopher I Am Become, Staying In This Benighted Place). From The Moment We Are Conceived It Is The Pattern In Our Blood And Our Bones Are Printed Through With It Like Sticks Of Seaside Rock. Nora, On The Other Hand, Says That She’s Surprised Anyone Knows Who They Are, Considering That Every Cell And Molecule In Our Bodies Has Been Replaced Many Times Over Since We Were Born.