This was what happiness felt like - this wondrous, miraculous alternative to dread.

It was not a big smile, not particularly bold or polite or ironic or glib, not asking for anything or offering anything, not stringy or careless, not, in short, like any smile I had ever experienced before. But such a smile! You could burn a hole in the world with that smile.

After all this time, I know exactly where I belong.

My daughter is a fantastic travelling companion - she's totally organised, whereas I'm hopeless.

When you read a book, the neurons in your brain fire overtime, deciding what the characters are wearing, how they're standing, and what it feels like the first time they kiss. No one shows you. The words make suggestions. Your brain paints the pictures.

She frowned at him. 'You are in love with solitude.' 'Is there a better cure for the world than solitude?

Osbert was the only one who didn't seem suspicious. He was so interested in the Decline of Western Civilization that he missed the version of it taking place under his nose.