I haven't changed. Something's happened to me, that's all.

I've been criticised for writing in too complex a manner for younger people.

The humble were the elect of God. Did not the priests teach so, in their gemmed, kingly robes, from their towering pulpits?

Robespierre, crippled and blind, has yet to be healed to the knowledge that service - his desire - is a deed of savage-speaking gentleness, not soft-spoken savagery.

Writers tell stories better, because they've had more practice, but everyone has a book in them. Yes, that old cliche.

I just love writing. It's magical, it's somewhere else to go, it's somewhere much more dreadful, somewhere much more exciting. Somewhere I feel I belong, possibly more than in the so-called real world.

No one more cynical than an idealist.