The Truth. The Dead Want Nothing Else.

No Woman That I Know Is Capable Of Leaving Her Child Down For Thirty Seconds. She Can't Walk Away Without Making Sure That Everything Is Absolutely As Secure And Safe For Her Child As Can Be.

Here We Go Again. Always A Few Drinks, But Sometimes Even Sober, We Play The Unhappiness Game; Endlessly Round And Round. Ding Dong. Tighter And Tighter. On And On. Push Me Pull You. Come Here And I'll Tell You How Much I Hate You. Hang On A Minute While I Leave You. All The While We Know We Are Missing The Point, Whatever The Point Used To Be.

I Think Young Children In The Western Middle Classes Are Objects Of Incredible Anxiety.

The Only Way To Write A Book, I’m Fond Of Telling People, Is To Actually Write A Book. That’s How You Write A Book.

I Am Interested In Silences