Welcome to the graveyard of ambition.

Oh you know me. I have no emotions. I'm a robot. Or a nun. A robot nun.

I love Billy Wilder, and I love the way that his films can be very touching and very moving and very romantic, and at the same time there's always a little cynical undertone, there's always something that undercuts things.

As soon as she'd met him at the arrivals gate on his return from Thailand, lithe and brown and shaven-headed, she knew that there was no chance of a relationship between them. Too much had happened to him, too little had happened to her.

In the future, I'll be braver, she told herself. In the future, I will always speak my mind, eloquently, passionately.

The trick of it, she told herself, is to be courageous and bold and make a different. Not change the world exactly, just the bit around you. Go out there with your double-first, your passion and your new Smith Carona electric typewriter and work hard at ... something. Change lives through art maybe. Write beautifully. Cherish your friends, stay true to your principles, live passionately and fully and well. Experience new things. Love and be loved if at all possible. East sensibly. Stuff like that.

[He] didn’t like to think of himself as vain, but there were definitely times when he wished there was someone on hand to take his photograph.