Writers write about what obsesses them. You draw those cards. I lost my mother when I was 14. My daughter died at the age of 6. I lost my faith as a Catholic. When I'm writing, the darkness is always there. I go where the pain is.

Whatever will happen will happen, but choose your companions with care. Choose them because you like to look at them and you like the sound of their voices, and they have profound secrets in them that you wish to know. In other words, choose them because you love them. Otherwise you will not be able to bear their company for very long.

Oh, my darling, wish you were here! And my dark soul is happy again, because it does not know how to be anything else for very long, and because the pain is a deep dark sea in which I would drown if I did not sail my little craft steadily over the surface, steadily towards a sun which will never rise.

I think there is a modern temper. The authority figures we revered in the past are all up for grabs - they're gone. We are groping for meaning in a world where some of our gods have died. We're asking ourselves, 'Who is our true brother and sister, where is our true home?' The modern tempter is our struggle to lead meaningful lives, and even if we don't believe in religion, we can reach down and hold on to our core values for guidance.

As if the night had said to me, ‘You are the night and the night alone understands you and enfolds you in its arms’ One with the shadows. Without nightmare. An inexplicable peace.

You can look at the New York Times Bestseller List and you can be pretty sure that the writers on that list don't know each other very well.

When we talk about our lives, long or short, brief and tragic or enduring beyond comprehension, we impose a continuity on them, and that continuity is a lie.