In my subconscious, my books were part of a single emotional journey.

The stories we sit up late to hear are love stories. It seems that we cannot know enough about this riddle of our lives. We go back and back to the same scenes, the same words, trying to scrape out the meaning. Nothing could be more familiar than love. Nothing else eludes us so completely.

Do all lovers feel helpless and valiant in the presence of the beloved? Helpless because the need to roll over like a pet dog is never far away. Valiant because you know you would slay a dragon with a pocket knife if you had to.

I never wanted children. If I'd been deeply in love with a man and he'd wanted children, it would have been difficult.

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.

Ordinary professionalism and 20 years' experience can accomplish a lot, but it can't access the hidden places.

I find pieces of myself everywhere, and I cut myself handling them.