The poets whom I knew then were all men and all seemed dauntingly sure of themselves - although I am sure that really they were as uncertain as I was.
Helen Dunmorei wish i was away in Ingo far across the briny sea sailing over deepest waters where neither care nore worry trouble me
Helen DunmoreI hope that readers will tear through my books because they can't stop themselves - and then, maybe, read them again and find new things there.
Helen DunmoreIf the garden of Eden really exists it does so moment by moment, fragmented and tough, cropping up like a fan of buddleia high up in the gutter of a deserted warehouse, or in a heap of frozen cabbages becoming luminous in the reflected light of roadside snow.
Helen Dunmore