Half my life is an act of revision. - John Irving

The history of a city was like the history of a family — there is closeness and even affection, but death eventually separates everyone from each other. It is only the vividness of memory that keeps the dead alive forever; a writer’s job is to imagine everything so personally that the fiction is as vivid as our personal memories.

What she might have told him was that taxidermy, like sex, is a very personal subject; the manner in which we impose it on others should be discreet.

It was Nurse Caroline who introduced Homer to young Dr. Harlow, who was in the throes of growing out his bangs; a cowlick persisted in making his forehead look meager; a floppy shelf of straw-colored hair gave Dr. Harlow’s eyes the constant anxiousness of someone peering from under the brim of a hat.
‘Oh yes, Wells – our ether expert,’ Dr. Harlow said snidely.
‘I grew up in an orphanage,’ said Homer Wells. ‘I did a lot of helping out around the hospital.’
‘But surely you never administered any ether?’ said Dr. Harlow.
‘Surely not,’ lied Homer Wells. As Dr. Larch had discovered with the board of trustees, it was especially gratifying to lie to unlikable people.