I am; I was. I want to be.

I hope if there is another world, we will not be judged too harshly for the things we did wrong here—that we will at least be forgiven for the mistakes we made out of love.

It was something... the way a person's life picked up speed, the way a life was like a bullet aimed at one final target, impossible to slow or turn aside, and like the bullet, you were ignorant of what you were going to hit, would never know anything except the rush and the impact.

Fantasy was always only a reality waiting to be switched on.

She liked things that had been written by people who had lived short, ugly, and tragic lives. Or, who at least, were English.

She just knew that even when you had nothing, you still had love.

You can't let facts get in the way of the truth.