There aren't any answers, only choices

When the day shall come that we do part," he said softly, and turned to look at me, "if my last words are not 'I love you'-ye'll ken it was because I didna have time.

Does it ever stop? The wanting you?" "Even when I've just left ye. I want you so much my chest feels tight and my fingers ache with wanting to touch ye again.

It was a beautiful bright autumn day, with air like cider and a sky so blue you could drown in it.

Torn between the impulse to stroke his head, and the urge to cave it in with a rock, I did neither.

I stood still, vision blurring, and in that moment, I heard my heart break. It was a small, clean sound, like the snapping of a flower's stem.

For so many years, for so long, I have been so many things, so many different men. But here," he said, so softly I could barely hear him, "here in the dark, with you… I have no name.

One dictum I had learned on the battlefields of France in a far distant war: You cannot save the world, but you might save the man in front of you, if you work fast enough.

Lord, ye gave me a rare woman, and God! I loved her well.

You dinna need to understand me, Sassenach," he said quietly. "So long as you love me.

D'ye ken that the only time I am without pain is in your bed, Sassenach? When I take ye, when I lie in your arms-my wounds are healed, then, my scars forgotten.

You've faced horrors in these past weeks... I don't know which is worse. The terror you feel the first time you witness such things, or the numbness that comes after it starts to become ordinary.

Absence is one of the most useful ingredients of family life and to do it rightly is an art like any other.

This world is all a fleeting show For man's illusion given The smiles of joy the tears of woe Deceitful shine deceitful flow - There's nothing true but Heaven.

The only thing I knew how to do was draw and play music.

If the Irish programme did not insist on the Irish language I suppose I could call myself a nationalist. As it is, I am content torecognize myself an exile: and, prophetically, a repudiated one.

Sensitivity isn't about being wimpy. It's about being so painfully aware that a flea landing on a dog is like a sonic boom

I've always had a love for poetry and when I got signed to a record label I thought, 'How odd that I'm doing a record before a book of poetry.'

We have to build the Republic of Heaven where we are, because for us there is no elsewhere.

Are you trying to tell all of us we have a bad signal-to-noise ratio?

You only have to read the lines of scribbly black and everything shines.