Kutipan
Now I think—and of course I could be wrong—that what upset me was that I’d just realized that my mother and I were separate people. We didn’t share the same dreams or nightmares. I was alone in the universe, like everybody else.
There’s something about a book you find by accident, a book no one else seems to have heard of, a book that thrills and then becomes a part of you, when it’s one you so easily might never have read at all—it seems like it found you.
WHY DO we long to know more about the lives of our most treasured authors? They’re just people with cavities and grocery lists, like the rest of us.
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