Lots of people I was starting to hate who I used to like a lot. But when you like people, you can hurt. I'd made a few mistakes with girl friends, and one or two guys I'd thought were my buddies, and I wouldn't make these mistakes again.

Love commingled with hate is more powerful than love. Or hate.

See, people come into your life for a reason. They might not know it themselves, why. You might not know it. But there's a reason. There has to be

I feel that in my novel I'm trying to re-address that imbalance and allow people to see that Norma Jeane was quite sensitive and intelligent, ... She read a great deal, she tried to write poetry. She was hoping to be a serious actress. But in a sense, it was too late because the American public just wanted the stereotype from her.

But he doesn't love her. I invented that. It is a plot if you imagine people in love--the lazy looping criss crosses of love, blows, stares, tears. No. It doesn't happen. No love. People meet, touch, stare into one another's faces, shake their heads clear, move on, forget. It doesn't happen.

The - the sort of thing that I want to do is to strike a resonant chord of universality in other people, which is best done by fiction.