A Good Novel Begins With

My First Job Was Working In A Dress Shop In Los Angeles In 1940, For $7 A Week.

A Lie Hides The Truth. A Story Tries To Find It.

It Was Hard To Reassure Grown-ups When You Weren't Certain Yourself What You Were Feeling And Thinking—when Thoughts Dissolved Before You Could Name Them.

Words Are Nets Through Which All Truth Escapes.

The Truth Came Slowly Like A Story Told By People Interrupting Each Other.