Every day I wake up afraid that I won't be able to write, that today is the day it has left me.

You will go on and meet someone else and I'll just be a chapter in your tale, but for me, you were, you are and you always will be, the whole story.

For feel-good fiction to work, there has to be an element of darkness.

I couldn’t be with people and I didn’t want to be alone. Suddenly my perspective whooshed and I was far out in space, watching the world. I could see millions and millions of people, all slotted into their lives; then I could see me—I’d lost my place in the universe. It had closed up and there was nowhere for me to be. I was more lost than I had known it was possible for any human being to be.

Why do we have such a finite capacity for pleasure but an infinite one for pain?

I still get awful depression. It's who I am.

Although will never love anyone again, don't want to become bitter. Or creative.