before I could read, almost a baby, I imagined that God, this strange thing or person I heard about, was a book.

We can't all be happy, we can't all be rich, we can't all be lucky - and it would be so much less fun if we were... There must be the dark background to show up the bright colours.

Would you like a whiskey?' I say. 'I've got some.' (That's original. I bet nobody's ever thought of that way of bridging the gap before.)

Blot out the moon, Pull down the stars. Love in the dark, for we're for the dark So soon, so soon.

...morbidly, attracted him to strangeness, to recklessnesss, even unhappiness.

She could give herself up to the written word as naturally as a good dancer to music or a fine swimmer to water. The only difficulty was that after finishing the last sentence she was left with a feeling at once hollow and uncomfortably full. Exactly like indigestion.

There is always the other side, always.