Memory, I Realize, Can Be

I Had Been Plunged Into A Different World. I Found Myself Spending Half My Time Answering Weird Questions On Book Tours In The Midwest. People Would Stand Up And Explain To Me The Situation In Their Office And Ask Me Whether They Should Resign Or Not.

To See The Best Before I Have Properly Begun Would Be Somewhat Premature.

Love Isn't About When You First Meet. It's About The Many, Many Years You Spend Together, When You're Trying To Keep That Flame Burning.

What He Wanted Was Not Just To Hear About Hailsham, But To Remember Hailsham, Just Like It Had Been His Own Childhood. He Knew He Was Close To Completing And So That's What He Was Doing: Getting Me To Describe Things To Him, So They'd Really Sink In, So That Maybe During Those Sleepless Nights, With The Drugs And The Paint And The Exhaustion, The Line Would Blur Between What Were My Memories And What Were His.

There Are Things I Am More Interested In Than The Clone Thing. How Are They Trying To Find Their Place In The World And Make Sense Of Their Lives? To What Extent Can They Transcend Their Fate? As Time Starts To Run Out, What Are The Things That Really Matter?