By Donna Tartt

chapter 1

“Does such a thing as “the fatal flaw,” that showy dark crack running down the middle of a life, exist outside literature?” I used to think it didn’t. Now i think it does. And i think that mine is this: a morbid longing for the picturesque at all costs” (7)

“In short: I felt my existence was tainted, in some subtle but essential way” (8)