Whatever You Say, Say Nothing.

The City Was Bigger Than Its Buildings, Bigger Than Its Inhabitants Too. It Had Its Own Nuances. It Accepted Whatever Came Its Way, The Crime And The Violence And The Little Shocks Of Good That Crawled Out From Underneath The Everyday.

Sometimes We Just Walk Into Something That Is Not For Us At All. We Pretend It Is. We Think We Can Shrug It Off Like A Coat, But It's Not A Coat At All, It's More Like Another Skin. [...] All I Wanted Was To Make My Life Thrilling For A While: To Take The Oridinary Objects Of My Days And Make A Different Argument Out Of Them, No Obligations To My Past.

Part Of The Beauty Of Fiction Is That We Come Alive In A Body That We Don't Own.

What Was A Life Anyway? An Accumulation Of Small Shelves Of Incident.

The Luxury Of Age Was The Giving Up Of Vanity.