“I should like to write my books only for the dear person who lies awake reading in bed until page last, then lets the open book fall gently on her face, to touch her smile or drink her tears.”

“I learned to write by reading the kind of books I wished I'd written.”

“But the last one: the baby who trails her scent like a flag of surrender through your life when there will be no more coming after - oh, that's love by a different name. She is the babe you hold in your arms for an hour after she's gone to sleep. If you put her down in the crib, she might wake up changed and fly away. So instead you rock by the window, drinking the light from her skin, breathing her exhaled dreams. Your heart bays to the double crescent moons of closed lashes on her cheeks. She's the one you can't put down.”

“This will be Great Mam's last spring. Her last June apples. Her last fresh roasting ears from the garden.”

“I vow I shall give all my very best books to the underprivileged, once I have read them”

“I considered her my ally, because, like me, she was imperfect.”

“People read books to escape the uncertainties of life.”