The body is the outermost layer of the mind.

Faith, the least exclusive club on Earth, has the craftiest doorman. Every time I've stepped through its wide-open doorway, I find myself stepping out on the street again.

Two people who are a little bit deluded in each other's favour. That's what love is, isn't it?

One fine day a predatory world shall consume itself.

Sometimes the fluffy bunny of incredulity zooms around the bend so rapidly that the greyhound of language is left, agog, in the starting cage.

For me, novels coalesce into being, rather than arrive fully formed.

...there ain't no journey what don't change you some.