…only a poet could frame a language that could frame a world.

Tell me the story, Pew. . . . It was a woman. You always say that. There's always a woman somewhere, child; a princess, a witch, a stepmother, a mermaid, a fairy godmother, or one as wicked as she is beautiful, or as beautiful as she is good. Is that the complete list? Then there is the woman you love. Who's she? That's another story.

I drove to Oxford with my van full of petrol and tin cans, as I didn't know there were service stations on the motorway. I pulled up on the hard shoulder and got my cans out. Then I filled up and set off again. That's how naive I was - so much not a cosmopolitan girl.

You are a pool of clear water where the light plays

She was a monster, but she was my monster.

I go on writing so that I will always have something to read.

With animal behavior, they're all fine until you introduce some rogue element into the cage, and then they go crazy.