I'm A Novelist, So I

But That’s One Advantage Of Fiction, You Can Speed Up Time.

We Thought We Were Being Mature When We Were Only Being Safe. We Imagined We Were Being Responsible But Were Only Being Cowardly. What We Called Realism Turned Out To Be A Way Of Avoiding Things Rather Than Facing Them.

But I’ve Been Turning Over In My Mind The Question Of Nostalgia, And Whether I Suffer From It. I Certainly Don’t Get Soggy At The Memory Of Some Childhood Knickknack; Nor Do I Want To Deceive Myself Sentimentally About Something That Wasn’t Even True At The Time—love Of The Old School, And So On. But If Nostalgia Means The Powerful Recollection Of Strong Emotions—and A Regret That Such Feelings Are No Longer Present In Our Lives—then I Plead Guilty.

..books Look As If They Contain Knowledge, While E-readers Look As If They Contain Information.

Early In Life, The World Divides Crudely Into Those Who Have Had Sex And Those Who Haven't. Later, Into Those Who Have Known Love, And Those Who Haven't. Later Still - At Least, If We Are Lucky (or, On The Other Hand, Unlucky) - It Divides Into Those Who Have Endured Grief, And Those Who Haven't. These Divisions Are Absolute; They Are Tropics We Cross.