And it was at moments like this that she had to remind herself that she was in love with him, or had once been in love with him, a long time ago.

The fact was I loved my wife to a degree that I found impossible to express, and so rarely did.

So - whatever happened to you?' 'Life. Life happened.

Sometimes, when it is going badly, she wonders if what she believes to be a love of the written word is really just a fetish for stationary.

I'm trying to be inspiring! I'm trying to lift your grubby soul for the great adventure that lies ahead of you!

…she was discovering once again that reading and writing were not the same — you couldn't just soak it up then squeeze it out again.

These days grief seems like walking on a frozen river; most of the time he feels safe enough, but there is always that danger that he will plunge through. Now he hears the ice creak beneath him, and so intense and panicking is the sensation that he has to stand for a moment, press his hands to his face and catch his breath.