The names for things don't come first. Words stagger after, hopelessly trying to become the sensation.

Words are sacred. If you get the right ones in the right order you can nudge the world a little.

He's never known anything like it! But then, he has never known anything to write home about, so this is nothing to write home about.

We shed as we pick up, like travellers who must carry everything in their arms, and what we let fall will be picked up by those behind. The procession is very long and life is very short. We die on the march. but there is nothing outside the march so nothing can be lost to it.

Let me get it straight. Your father was king. You were his only son. Your father dies. You are of age. Your uncle becomes king." "Yes." "Unorthodox.

We do on stage things that are supposed to happen off. Which is a kind of integrity, if you look on every exit as being an entrance somewhere else.

I enjoy writing dialogue; it comes naturally to me.