In terms of the secrets that imbue and underlie Fall on Your Knees, they were as much of a mystery to me as I was creating the story as they are to the readers.

Depression is anger slowed down; panic is grief speeded up.

Writing is a hellish task, best snuck up on, whacked on the head, robbed and left for dead.

Hope is a gift. You can't choose to have it. To believe and yet to have no hope is to thirst beside a fountain.

Do you think there's such a thing as a ghost who masquerades as a person? Do you believe that there are people whose bodies are still alive here on earth but whose souls are already in hell?

The thief you must fear the most is not the one who steals mere things.

Afterwards, in bed with a book, the spell of television feels remote compared to the journey into the page. To be in a book. To slip into the crease where two pages meet, to live in the place where your eyes alight upon the words to ignite a world of smoke and peril, colour and serene delight. That is a journey no one can end with the change of a channel. Enduring magic.