In London, I've always lived within 10 miles of where I was born. You see, there is something called a spirit of place, and my place happens to be London, at least once a fortnight.

The endless chatter of this journey had wearied me.

If I did only one thing at a time I'd think I was wasting my time. If, for example, I only wrote novels I would feel like a charlatan and a fraud.

As a Londoner I was able to see how the world of power and money cast its shadow on those who failed.

Familial love can find an echo in our own hearts just as it did in that of Charles Dickens.

It is strange, is it not, how a person can adore one's soul so much that they adore one's body also?

Health, money. That's what people worried about in the 14th century as much as today. I find it so much more interesting than the supposed activities of kings, queens, generals.