Do I think you're a sucker for her? I'd term it emotionally susceptible and yeah, you sure are.

Feeling deeply is a virtue, Bev. It allows life to take on meaning and at some point your joy will be even greater than if you'd simply drifted with the currents.

Not a word about the tiny bones. I wondered why a married woman would avoid the plural form.

That placed her inches from a yawning abyss.

That's the way it is with most people: Details are an intrusion. Then there's the rest of us, lying in bed at three a.m., scrolling through volumes of mental small print.

The key to this collaboration - which we undertook after much deliberation - was to stretch creatively. New characters, new locales, new form (the novella).

Revenge was a dish best eaten cold, but eight years between was arctic.

I'd long thought that a surfeit of sensitivity could be a killing thing, too much insight malignant in its own right. The best survivors--there are studies that show it--are those blessed with an inordinate ability to deny. And keep on marching.

Friendly, yes. Friend, never.

Here I come, victims of the world. God help all of us.

There is nothing new under the sun. The only meaningful question is who gets to hold the reflective lens. Passion.

Truth and logic could serve as springboards for psychosis.

We tend to read each other's books in sizeable chunks as they are written. I don't know that you could say we are ruthless with each other - in fact, I suppose we are very kind. There are ways to make suggestions which are not destructive.

Psychopaths, skillful as they are at manipulating others, have trouble with emotional regulation and generally screw up at either extreme: theatrical histrionics or cold stoicism.

That's what's so great about my job. I get paid to do what got me in trouble in grade school space out and play with my imaginary friends. In terms of Isaac, when the time's right.

O Great Swami of the East, your wisdom has pierced the miasma.

It didn't feel difficult at the time because I was so charged up about both books. Afterward, however, I was pretty tired. In a good way, like after a great workout.

Keith Moon in Wembley, England, all facts attested to by the writing on the memorials.

Then, the stunningly white cubes that make up the Getty Museum. It's an architectural masterpiece funded by a venal billionaire's trust, housing third-rate art. Pure L.A.: might makes right and packaging is all. Traffic.

Icy people often freeze themselves in order to hold in check a volcanic stew of disturbing and conflictual feelings. Emotional hibernation, if you will. Crack the ice and the stuff inside comes pouring out with all the discipline of molten lava.

The symptoms of madness can often be altered with medication, but there's no therapy for evil.

There's profit in law enforcement? I was thinking spiritually.

Know what Oscar Wilde said about cynics? They know the price of everything and the value of nothing.

But in the words of a great philosopher, you can't always get what you want.

Grace is false, and beauty is vain. A woman who fears God—she is praised. Give to her of the fruit of her hands, and her deeds will praise her at the gates.

Assholes are like weeds, a bitch to get rid of and when you do another one grows back in its place.

I don't practice, but I am still officially in paediatrics. I keep in touch with journals, and I have a very good data bank of medical information and there is a key thing for a writer knowing where to go. I know where to go to get the information that I need.

Most people aren't overly afflicted with curiosity. It separates the creative and the tormented from the rest of the pack.

They say you don't grow up until you lose your parents. Frankly, I'd prefer to be immature.

If the whole country ever got that industrious the Japanese wouldn't stand a chance.

The characters emerge from my rather twisted mind. That's another enjoyable part of the job making stuff up.

It's simply not relevant to my role as an advocate, and even to begin to think along those lines would hamper me in the execution of my duties.

I saw this cartoon in the paper, once. That Viking, Hagar the Horrible? He's standing on the mountaintop, holding his hands to the heavens, shouting Why me? And down from the heavens comes the answer: Why not? Maybe that's the ultimate truth; what right to do I have to expect a smooth ride?

Just because others have it worse doesn't mean you have to suffer in silence.

Grinding his jaws. Barb snapped, Over and done, put a fork in it. Stan.

The white in her hair verged on silver-plate. The style was some cosmetologist's ode to meringue.

If you couldn't get the outcome you wanted, torture 'em with process.

Literally and figuratively. Balance is important to you.

Life is like a prism. What you see depends on how you turn the glass.

He sat down and said, Thank you.

Because like all psychopaths he was grandiose, and convinced of his own personal magnetism, assumed worship on the part of others.

Doc, God help me for saying it—if you repeat this I'll totally deny it—but some sperm deserve to be drowned before they get a chance to swim.

That was the thing about knowing people's secrets: It could make them not like you.

All of us are like locks. No matter how strong the bolt, there's always a key out there that opens it.

Freckles of blue sky sparked through the green-black of old growth.

Others declare good intentions.

Overweening arrogance and why not? No one had told him no for a very long time.

Time spent researching varies from book to book. Some novels require months, even years of research, others very little. I try to do most of my research before I begin but inevitably questions emerge during the writing.

These people are real to me, and situations keep coming up where their emergence feels natural. It's like meeting old friends. I hope readers feel the same way.