A mother of a one-year-old boy is a movie star in a world without critics.

In death, we are not defined by what we did or who we were but by what we meant to others. How well we loved and were loved in return.

I forget the derivation of Boxing Day, but the feeling of wanting to invite your loved ones outside one at a time and punch them in the face, does that come into it somewhere?

When you're young your mother shields you from the world because she thinks you're too young to understand, and when she's old you shield her because she's too old to understand - or to have any more understanding inflicted upon her. The curve of life goes: want to know, know, don't want to know.

The great thing about unrequited love is it's the only kind that lasts.

God probably thinks it’s worth giving a sense of humor only to those of us who have to laugh at all the rubbish bits that are wrong with us.

Anyone suffering Downton Abbey withdrawal symptoms will find an instant tonic.