I can see it, Ed, I leaned deeper into you, felt you nodding along with the sounds in the room, and your warmth signaled through to me from under your shirt, lovely strong, safe and right.

Writing is a dying form. One reads of this every day.

Announcing your death should be like announcing that you are a lunar moth: It must be done quietly or it will not be believed.

The Long Goodbye' is one book I like to read over and over again, and it was an enormous inspiration for 'All The Wrong Questions'.

If we wait until we're ready, we'll be waiting for the rest of our lives.

We need things, and the opposite of them, and we are so rarely completely comfortable.

I love no one but you, I have discovered, but you are far away and I am here alone. Then this is my life and maybe, however unlikely, I'll find my way back there. Or maybe, one day, I'll settle for second best. And on that same day, hell will freeze over, the sun will burn out and the stars will fall from the sky.