The world is more outlandish than some people’s imaginations.

Some people make you feel better about living. Some people you meet and you feel this little lift in your heart, this 'Ah', because there's something in them that's brighter or lighter, something beautiful or better than you, and here's the magic: instead of feeling worse, instead of feeling 'why am I so ordinary?', you feel just the opposite, you feel glad. In a weird way you feel better, because before this you hadn't realised or you'd forgotten human beings could shine so.

We are our stories. We tell them to stay alive or keep alive those who only live now in the telling.

The world is more outlandish than some people’s imaginations.

Hope may or may not be a Thing with Feathers. But it’s definitely a Thing with Claws.

All writers are waiting for replies. That’s what I’ve learned. Maybe all human beings are

When my father first took me to Ennis Library I went down among the shelves and felt company, not only the company of writers, but the readers too, because they had lifted and opened and read these books. The books were worn in a way they can only get worn by hands and eyes and minds