Ireland is a land of poets and legends, of dreamers and rebels. All of these have music woven through and around them. Tunes for dancing or for weeping, for battle or for love.

Love is very funny business. And sex - well, let's face it, sex is hysterical.

I was just trying to get his attention!" the man protested at the top of his lungs. "If he'da listened, I wouldn'ta had to bash him.

You don't need to diet, She-Body. You are a just-right female." "McNab?" Eve said. "Yes, sir." "Shut up." "It's all right, Dallas. We're a couple." "A couple of what? No, don't tell me. Don't talk to me. Don't talk to each other. Let there be silence across the land.

There it was, Eve supposed. There was the answer to why people got tangled up with people. Because when you were down, when you were wallowing, someone you mattered to would ask if you were okay.

I don't let myself believe in writer's block. I feel very strongly writing is habit as much as an art or a craft. And if you write crap, you're still writing.

I'm a barrel of monkeys, kid, though mostly I figure monkeys stuck in a barrel are just going to be pissed off.