If Truman hadn't published 'Answered Prayers' in parts, he'd have had the drive to finish it. The peacocks took it away from him.

Success is so bad for everybody, period. Especially a certain kind of success, when people practically give up their identity. They forget who they are, how they are.

I never wanted fame.

I was grieving the way the earth seems to grieve for spring in the dead of winter, but I wasn't afraid, because nothing, I told myself, can take our halcyon days away.