Inside every fat man, there's a thin man trying to get out.

When the doorbell rings at three in the morning, it's never good news.

All that sadness. All that anger. It is the smoke that gets into your eyes. If you do not blow it away, how can you hope to see?

Alex decided he’d had enough. He put down his knife. “All right,” he said. “You’ve made it pretty clear that you don’t want to work with me. Well, that’s fine. Because I don’t want to work with you either. And for what it’s worth, nobody would ever believe you were my mom because no mom would ever behave like you.” “Alex…,” Carver began. “Forget it! I’m going back to London. And if you’re Mr. Byrne asks why, you can tell him I didn’t like the jelly, so I went home to get some jam.

My writing has always been what you call 'narrative fiction' in the sense that it's got very strong plots and twists at the end.

You are meant to be here. There are no coincidences. It's all happening the way it was meant to be.

If this is what you do to the winner, I'd hate to see how you treat the runner up.