In real life nothing means anything. Stuff happens and there just is no structure.

The sky was the colour of sad weddings.

What folly takes light through ether to each eye from every horizon.

I erased the thought from my mind, but I couldn't undo the fact that I'd had the thought in the first place.

My novels are high concept. I guess big ideas interest me more than, say, the minutiae of domestic life.

One of the paradoxes of writing is that when you write non-fiction everyone tries to prove that it's wrong, and when you publish fiction, everyone tries to see the truth in it.

Sometimes you have to trust grownups, perhaps more so when they are not there to actually supervise you.