Anger was simple, self-sustaining as a cactus. You couldn't look too closely at it, lest the spines get you in the eye.

You need one person who knows you... Just one person you can't fool, even when you fool yourself.

But that was the least of it. He knew the worst of her, and that was better.

The best lies were the simplest and made the most sense, in the mind and in the mouth.

Grace hated lying, got no joy from it, and this was how she knew she wasn't pathological.

The universe would give you whatever you wanted if you twisted its arm hard enough.

She hadn't realized she was lonely until she began to understand that other people were not.