Vampire? Such a provocative word, wrapped in too many clichés and girly novels.

This was, I would later realise, a planet of things wrapped inside things. Food inside wrappers. Bodies inside clothes. Contempt inside smiles. Everything was hidden away.

Everyone represses everything. Do you think any of these "normal" human beings really do exactly what they want to do all the time? 'Course not. It's just the same. We're middle-class and we're British. Repression is in our veins.

And how could I believe that Australian wine was automatically inferior to wine sourced from other regions on the planet when I had never drunk anything but liquid nitrogen?

The possibility of pain is where love stems from

The single biggest act of bravery or madness anyone can do is the act of change.

There is only one genre in fiction, the genre is called book.