Children, I suppose, are always unfinished business: they begin as part of your own body, and continue as separate as another continent.

History is a string full of knots, the best you can do is admire it, and maybe tie it up a bit more. History is a hammock for swinging and a game for playing.

I would eat my way into perdition to taste you.

There is no sense in loving someone you can never wake up to except by chance.

I believe in communication; books communicate ideas and make bridges between people.

Nothing has an unlikely quality. It is heavy.

What it means to be human is to bring up your children in safety, educate them, keep them healthy, teach them how to care for themselves and others, allow them to develop in their own way among adults who are sane and responsibile, who know the value of the world and not its economic potential. It means art, it means time, it means all the invisibles never counted by the GDP and the census figures. It means knowing that life has an inside as well as an outside. And I think it means love.