Authors have odd relationships with their creations They owe their fame and fortune to their characters but feel enslaved by them.

Statues lined the stairs and stood, dotted across the roof. But they had been brutalized by time and the weather. Some were missing arms. Many had no faces. Once they had been saints and angels. Two hundred years standing in London had turned them into cripples.

No offense, but I'd rather kiss the horse.

What happened?" he demanded. "I heard an explosion!" "Yeah.That was me. I set the boat alight." "What?" "I set fire to the boat." "But we're on the boat!" "I know.

Until he lost all his money, my father was a successful north London Jewish businessman. He was unusual among his immediate family in that he was enormously cultured and had an incredible library.

Childhood, after all, is the first precious coin that poverty steals from a child.

Whatever you say, old boy. Just look after yourself. And whatever you do, don't swallow the gum!