Forever, reading has been central, the necessary fix, the support system. Her life has been informed by reading. She has read not just for distraction, sustenance, to pass the time, but she has read in a state of primal innocence, reading for enlightenment, for instruction, even. ... She is as much a product of what she has read as of the way in which she has lived; she is like millions of others built by books, for whom books are an essential foodstuff, who could starve without.

And in another year everything will be different yet again. It is always like that, and always will be; you are forever standing on the brink, in a place where you cannot see ahead; there is nothing of which to be certain except what lies behind. This should be terrifying, but somehow it is not.

If we had not met, that day, I think I would have imagined you somehow.

We all need a past - that's where our sense of identity comes from.

You learn a lot, writing fiction.

Wars are fought by children. Conceived by their mad demonic elders, and fought by boys.

I didn't write anything until I was well over 30.