What if we had a chance to do it again and again, until we finally did get it right? Wouldn't that be wonderful?

I have been to the world's end and back and now I know what I would put in my bottom drawer .I would put my sisters.

Perhaps we are on an insula ex machina, an artificial place not in the real world at all -- a backdrop for the stories we must tell.

You must never believe everything they say about a person. Generally speaking, most of it will be lies, half-truths at best.

No point in thinking, you just have to get on with life. We only have one after all, we should try and do our best. We can never get it right, but we must try.

The beginning is the word and the end is silence. And in between are all the stories.

Not being published would be great. When I say that to other writers they look at me as if I'm totally insane.