Everything gets to me. I'm very sentimental.

No prince had lived in those wretched hovels, no red-robed bishops, only farmers and laborers whose stories no one had written down, and now they were lost, buried under wild thyme and fast growing spurge.

I will try to write books until I drop dead.

Why did death make life taste so much sweeter? Why could the heart love only what it could also lose?

It's a good idea to have your own books with you in a strange place

Ten minutes can be a long time when you're waiting with a beating heart for something you don't understand, something you don't really want to know.

My daughter, Anna, is almost 15, and my son, Ben, is almost 10.