Sighs and silences and avoided conversations are just as important as the things you do talk about.

Then I realised that I was the god on this occasion. I had tried to help the bluebottle, but it wouldn't let me. And then I felt sorry for God because I understood his frustration. Sometimes when people offer a helping hand, it gets pushed away. People always want to help themselves first.

One must not speak of such things. One is still scarred from that experience.

There is absolutely nothing wrong with returning to the house you grew up in every now and again. It's good for the soul.

My box bedroom can only fit a bed and a wardrobe but it was my whole world. My only personal space to think and dream, to cry and laugh and wait until I became old enough to do all the things I wasn't allowed to do.

Is not where I live happily ever after, or who with. It's the fact that I live happily ever after.

Day-to-day things, the mundane, are what keeps the motor running. How extraordinary the ordinary really is, a tool we all use to keep going, a template for sanity.