Like a domestic cat, purring on the sofa by day, but by night, a strutting queen, a natural killer, disdainful of her other life.

If you can still write in spite of the fact that you're not getting paid, that nobody cares about what you're writing, that nobody wants to publish it, that everybody is telling you to do something else, and you still want to and you still enjoy it and you can't stop doing it...then you're a writer.

I carried recipes in my head like maps.

Anything based on ancient texts is difficult for a modern reader to get their head around.

I liked her better for showing a little spirit.

It isn't just a village. The houses aren't just places to live. Everything belongs to everybody. Everyone belongs to everyone else. Even a single person can make a difference.

Somehow the anticipation of pain can be even more troubling, more a misery than the pain itself.