The first coffee of the morning is never, ever, ready quickly enough. You die before it’s ready and then your ghost pours the resurrection potion out of the moka pot.

I wish there was someone I could have written to after that, someone I could have written to explain how awful it was to have someone touch you, then look at you properly and change his mind.

Home is where your teapots are.

I collected pictures and I drew pictures and I looked at the pictures by myself. And because no one else ever saw them, the pictures were perfect and true. They were alive.

I feel like an old lady; my hero is Miss Marple.

Because things grow. Wherever there is air and light and open space, things grow.

There were days when he touched the tip of her nose and it was enough, a miracle of plenty.

The language of [Catholic] mysticism - its repeated attempts to lay consciousness itself bare and speak all the intensely opposing yet interconnected parts of it that cannot be spoken.

I think, basically, what I'm good for is reading - a lot.

I dont have a style. I just try to write what the story demands.

I do tend to feel more connected to dead writers, perhaps because they have finished their work.

Poetry is as necessary to comprehension as science. It is as impossible to live without reverence as it is without joy.

Make a list of things you like doing and then do them

The fickleness of the woman I love is equalled by the infernal constancy of the women who love me.

Finn: I look at you because I can't look away Wendy. Wendy: That's kinda creepy. Finn: I will work on being less creepy then.

If you tell a kid not to run to a water slide, he/she will walk for 2 steps, then start running again.

My personal definition of rock'n'roll is people attempting to do something that's beyond their ability to do it well. And whatever the outward contradictions, I do call us a rock'n'roll band.

Part of being a comedian is that it's your job to look at life and regurgitate it in a funny way, to point out its absurdities.

In England, justice is open to all - like the Ritz Hotel.

Raw in the fields the rude militia swarms, Mouth without hands; maintained at vast expense, In peace a charge, in war a weak defence.

Each of us is ultimately alone.