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

She was a logical child, as far as children go. She did not understand how such a nice, kind, good God as the one they preyed to, could condemn the whole earth for sinfulness and flood it, or condemn his only Son to a disgusting death on behalf of everyone. This death did not seem to have done much good.

Art does not exist for politics, or for instruction- it exists primarily for pleasure, or it is nothing.

I don't like gurus. I don't like people who ask you to follow or believe. I like people who ask you to think independently.

I grew up with that completely fictive idea of motherhood, where the mother never strayed from the kitchen. All the women in my books are very afraid that if they do anything with their minds they won't be complete women. I don't think my daughters' generation has that feeling.

One of the reasons I've gotten so attached to talking to scientists is that... they know there is a reality.

Louis de Bernires is in the direct line that runs through Dickens and Evelyn Waugh. . .he has only to look into his world, one senses, for it to rush into reality, colours and touch and taste.