in the linked arms of Bacchus and Aphrodite.

Heaven deliver us, what's a poet? Something that can't go to bed without making a song about it.

But that's men all over ... Poor dears, they can't help it. They haven't got logical minds.

For God's sake, let's take the word 'possess' and put a brick round its neck and drown it ... We can't possess one another. We can only give and hazard all we have.

How can I find the words? Poets have taken them all and left me with nothing to say or do""Except to teach me for the first time what they meant.

She reflected she must be completely besotted with Peter, if his laughter could hallow an aspidistra.

Forget about how old you are, and get busy.

Prayer does work sometimes, but hard work always works.

Identifying and overcoming natural fear is one of the pleasing struggles intrinsic to climbing.

While Time, The endless idiot, runs screaming round the world.

Anything under the sun is beautiful if you have the vision it is the seeing of the thing that makes it so.

There ought to be a thoughtful welfare-reform debate that doesn't turn into something that could be called scapegoating.

The essence of love is concern.

I would have to say my earthy sensuality - although I should point out that the backs of my calves are exemplary and my upper inner thigh is a delight.

I write fiction because it's a way of making statements I can disown.