To be Despair. It is a portrait. Only close your eyes and feel.

They also held that the way to salvation was to give way to lust and temptation in all things. And no greater percentage of them turned up here than of any other religion. Amusing, isn't it?

As for thinking time versus writing time, well, that's up to you. But - and I wish it were otherwise - books don't get written by thinking about them, they get written by writing them. And that's when you make discoveries about what you're writing. That's when you get the happy accidents.

The converse held reassuringly true: daylight was safe. Daylight was always safe.

Something told him that something was coming to an end. Not the world, exactly. Just the summer. There would be other summers, but there would never be one like this. Ever again.

I think you're doing better than you were the last time we saw you. You're growing a new heart, for a start.

Be boring, knowing everything. You have to give all that stuff up if you're going to muck about here.