I've always been interested in the intersection between our rational and our unconscious lives.

My days are as long as despair can make them.

I like nudging readers into a slightly different perspective, but in a sly way - I want to be the writer who slips a stiletto in and out, to make so swift and clean a cut, it's not until a chapter ends that the reader looks down and sees she's bleeding and asks what happened.

There aren't many people in our history who have so completely surrendered themselves to a mission that they would give up their lives for it.

We're taught to expect unconditional love from our parents, but I think it is more the gift our children give us. It's they who love us helplessly, no matter what or who we are.

I can't work out much about myself or what I see in the world around me unless I do it through writing.

Sometimes there's a sort of tear in the veil, and there are people who live in more than one dimension.