I wanted to wear the mantle and the pearls. I wanted to know the man who painted her like that.

I find that when I come out of the library I'm in what I call the library bliss of being totally taken away from the distractions of life.

My father was often impatient during March, waiting for winter to end, the cold to ease, the sun to reappear. March was an unpredictable month, when it was never clear what might happen. Warm days raised hopes until ice and grey skies shut over the town again.

Although I always said that I wanted to be a writer from childhood, I hadn't actually done much about it until I came to London.

You know I don’t listen to market gossip,” she began, “but it is hard not to hear it when my daughter’s name is mentioned.

I didn't move. I've learned from years of experience that dogs and falcons and ladies come back to you if you stay where you are.

I have spent my life waiting for something to happen,’ she said. ‘And I have come to understand that nothing will. Or it already has, and I blinked during that moment and it's gone. I don't know which is worse — to have missed it or to know there is nothing to miss.’ Falling Angels