It didn't hurt, did it? When I hit you?" "Sure. Fractured skull. Concussion, the lot..." "But seriously, Kath. No hard feelings, right? I'm awfully sorry. I honestly am.

I can't even say I made my own mistakes. Really - one has to ask oneself - what dignity is there in that?

It is all very well, in these changing times, to adapt one's work to take in duties not traditionally within one's realm; but bantering is of another dimension altogether. For one thing, how would one know for sure that at any given moment a response of the bantering sort is truly what is expected? One need hardly dwell on the catastrophic possibility of uttering a bantering remark only to discover it wholly inappropriate.

There comes a point when you can more or less count the number of books you're going to write before you die.

I think jogging is bad for your health. All that pressure on the knees and back cannot be good for you.

People were incredibly kind to our family and went out of their way to help.

Screenplays I didn't really care about, journalism, travel books, getting my writer friends to write about their dreams or something. I just determined to write the books I had to write.