Writing is like carrying a fetus.
Wherever there were horses or ponies the mushrooms always sprang up.
I was lonelier than I should be, for a woman in love, or half in love.
... a country encapsulates our childhood and those lanes, byres, fields, flowers, insects, suns, moons and stars are forever reoccurring.
... we have so many voices in us, how do we know which ones to obey?
it is not good to repudiate the dead because then they do not leave you alone, they are like dogs that bark intermittently at night.