I think vestigially there's a synesthete in me but not like a real one who immediately knows what colour Wednesday is.

Young girls are sad. They like to be; it makes them feel strong.

I acquired a hunger for fairy tales in the dark days of blackout and blitz in the second world war.

A beautiful woman, Simone Weil said, seeing herself in the mirror, knows "This is I." An ugly woman knows with equal certainty, "This is not I." Maud knew this neat division represented an over-simplification. The doll-mask she saw had nothing to do with her, nothing.

…words have been all my life, all my life--this need is like the Spider's need who carries before her a huge Burden of Silk which she must spin out--the silk is her life, her home, her safety--her food and drink too--and if it is attacked or pulled down, why, what can she do but make more, spin afresh, design anew….

Outside our small safe place flies mystery.

There is a certain aesthetic pleasure in trying to imagine the unimaginable and failing, if you are a reader.