Wolf Hall attempts to duplicate not the historian's chronology but the way memory works: in leaps, loops, flashes.

I believe this was [Margaret Thatcher] estimate of the voter: "These people are so stupid that they will vote for me because they think I know how to run the household."

What [Margaret Thatcher] made a play for was the acquisitive: our greedy nature. She set aside other things like an identification with community, altruism. The only collective that she understood was: Rally around and slay the enemy.

He thinks, I remembered you, Thomas More, but you didn't remember me. You never even saw me coming.

God takes out your heart of flesh, and gives you a heart of stone.

Beneath every history, another history.

I dislike pastiche; it attracts attention to the language only.