“She kept public radio on so it sounded like someone was sitting next to her, engaging her in intriguing conversation.”

“When had being an addict gotten so fucking hard? So exhausting? It had been so easy for so long; she had a steady supply, she kept to herself, nobody bothered her. Now she was constantly up to her ears in intrigue and complications, being torn in every direction but her own, all thanks to her need for those pills”

“So, are you... intrigued ... by Stanhope?""Intrigued by him?""Indeed. Do you find him ..." he paused."Intriguing?" she teased.He sent her an exasperated look.”

“That was the point where she was supposed to sound tough, like she was someone to be reckoned with, like she was the sort of person witches should listen to. Was this really her plan? She sounded like a child.”

“She likes to sleep with the radio onSo she can dream of her favorite song”

“No, solitude did not trouble her. She could spend long minutes gazing out the window, hours listening to the BBC on the public radio station. She relished the very texture of her privacy, its depth of space and freedom, much of an entire day hers alone.”