I was convinced that the only thing I wanted to do ever - was write novels.
Pagford, which by night was no more than a cluster of twinkling lights in a dark hollow far below, was emerging into chilly sunlight.
Dawn was breaking over the horizon, shell pink and faintly gold.
Whatever happens to your body, your soul will survive, untouched.
Ah, music. A magic beyond all we do here!
For some to love you, some must loathe you.