My childhood was spent embracing one literary heroine after another. I identified passionately with each one and would slavishly imitate them.

And maybe now you'll start treating everybody with respect. Not just the people you think are important.

... what would Poirot do? Poirot wouldn't flap around in a panic. He'd stay calm and use his little grey cells and recall some tiny, vital detail which would be the clue to everything.

Lover? I don't know. I don't know if she loves me. I don't know if I love her. All I can say is, she's the one I think about. All the time. She's the voice I want to hear. She's the face I hope to see.

I had gone to Oxford to read music. I had done music all my life, but when I got to college I didn't want to do it anymore.

The trouble with giving yourself a pep talk is, that deep down you know it's all bullshit.

This is a test, isn't it? It's like choosing out of three caskets in a fairy tale. Everyone knows the rules. You never choose the gold shiny one. Or even the quite impressive silver one. What you're supposed to do is choose the dull little lead one, and then there's a flash of light and it turns into a mountain of jewels