“A family is like medicine." She twisted her lips into a sardonic smile. "Best in small doses.”
“Family, like arsenic, works best in small doses...unless you prefer to die.”
“His lips made a grim twist that was like the joyless cousin of a smile.”
“I could see that Isabel listened to him with growing exasperation. Larry had no notion that he was driving a dagger in her heart and with his every detached word twisting it in the wound. But when she spoke it was with a faint smile on her lips.”
“Fiction and poetry are doses, medicines. What they heal is the rupture reality makes on the imagination.”
“[Fiction and poetry] are medicines, they're doses, and they heal the rupture that reality makes on the imagination.”