If Wishes Were Horses, Beggars Would Ride.

To Be Closed From Everything, And Yet To Feel, To Think...this Is The Truth Of Hell, Stripped Of Its Gaudy Medievalisms. This Loss Of Contact.

My Heroes And Heroines Are Often Unlikely People Who Are Dragged Into Situations Without Meaning To Become Involved, Or People With A Past That Has Never Quite Left Them. They Are Often Isolated, Introspective People, Often Confrontational Or Anarchic In Some Way, Often Damaged Or Secretly Unhappy Or Incomplete.

A Thing Named Is A Thing Tamed.

Death Should Be A Celebration. Like A Birthday. I Want To Go Up Like A Rocket When My Time Comes, And Fall Down In A Cloud Of Stars, And Hear Everyone Go: Ahh!

What Is A Writer Of Fiction But A Liar With A Licence?