I think that what I do is a form of pathetic fallacy, the literary trope in which nature is in sympathy with the mood of the story. I connect the physical setting and props in the story to the emotional state of the characters.

I sometimes think young people are not given nearly enough credit for their ability to appreciate literary flourish.

Kiss me, Hardy!’ Weren’t those Nelson’s last words at the Battle of Trafalgar? Don’t cry. We’re still alive and we make a sensational team.

But I have told the truth. Isn't that ironic? They sent me because I am so good at telling lies. But I have told the truth.

Must stop. This ink is amazing, it really doesn't smear, even when you cry on it

Maddie took the top of her egg off. The hot bright yolk was like summer sun breaking through cloud. The first daffodil in the snow. A gold sovereign wrapped in a white silk handkerchief. She dipped her spoon in it and licked it.

But people need lift, too. People don't get moving, they don't soar, they don't achieve great heights, without someone buoying them up.