Much historical fiction that centers on real people has always been deficient in information, lacking in craft and empty in affect.

One of the ideals [Margaret Thatcher] grew up with was self-denial and postponement of gratification, and yet she went about to create a greedy, short-term society. It is a paradox.

[Margaret Thatcher] aroused such strong loathing in so many people. That's the fact that interests me.

I would have been a disaster as a career politician. I would never have toed a party line.

As a writer, you owe it to yourself not to get stuck in a rut of looking at the world in a certain way.

I was the subject of an experiment in love. I lived my life under her gaze, undergoing certain trials for her so that she would not have to undergo them for herself. But, how are our certainties forged, except by the sweat and tears of other people? If your parents don't teach you how to live; you learn it from books; and clever people watch you learn from your mistakes.

At New Year's he had given Anne a present of silver forks with handles of rock crystal. He hopes she will use them to eat with, not to stick in people.