I think women love to read love stories.

I've set the bar quite high in terms of storytelling.

Women basically want the same thing - a good passionate story, a great fantasy - and for our partners to do the laundry and the washing up.

People are talking about sex. They're talking about sex with their husbands. They're talking about sex with their girlfriends. They're talking about sex with their partners. And because of all of this communication, women are having much more intimate relationships, which is fantastic.

I do not look at the world in terms of black and white - and I find people who do rather scary. I think it's all shades of grey.

The candle flame is too hot. It flickers and dances in the over-warm breeze, a breeze that brings no respite from the heat. Soft gossamer wings flutter to and fro in the dark, sprinkling dusty scaled in the circle of light. I'm struggling to resist, but I'm drawn. And then it's to bright, and I am flying too close to the sun, dazzled by the light, fried and melting from the heat, weary in my endeavers to stay airborn. I am so warm. The heat... It's stiffling, overpowering. It wakes me.

Men aren't really complicated. They are very simple, literal creatures. They usually mean what they say. And we spend hours trying to analyze what they've said, when really it's obvious.