A Thing Named Is A Thing Tamed.

A Man Who Casts No Shadow Isn't Really A Man At All.

Drunkeness, She Told Us In A Rare Moment Of Confidence, Is A Sin Against The Fruit, The Tree, The Wine Itself. Wine, Distilled And Nurtured From Bud Into Fruit; It Deserves Reverance. Joy. Gentleness. (page 194.)

One Of The Things That Writing Has Taught Me Is That Fiction Has A Life Of Its Own. Fictional Places Are Sometimes More Real Than The View From Our Bedroom Window. Fictional People Can Sometimes Become As Close To Us As Our Loved Ones.

Of Course I Didn't Pioneer The Use Of Food In Fiction: It Has Been A Standard Literary Device Since Chaucer And Rabelais, Who Used Food Wonderfully As A Metaphor For Sensuality.

I Sell Dreams, Small Comforts, Sweet Harmless Temptations To Bring Down A Multitude Of Saints Crashing Among The Hazels And Nougatines