Love - true love - is a precious thing. It is painful, uncomfortable, makes fools of us all, but it is what breathes meaning and color and purpose into our lives.

The dead leave their shadows, an echo of the space within which once they lived. They haunt us, never fading or growing older as we do. The loss we grieve is not just their futures but our own.

All prizes have a role, if they are run with integrity and with a clear focus on reading and quality writing. I don't think any of them is necessary, but they all play an incredibly important role in building a body of literature, in introducing new authors to new readers, and extending reading.

There comes always a moment when the desire to act, however ill the cause, is stronger than the wish to listen.

Actually, I can write anywhere - airport lounges, in bed, on a rattling train going north.

People think that I'm very serious.

The message is clear: libraries matter. Their solid presence at the heart of our towns sends the proud signal that everyone - whoever they are, whatever their educational background, whatever their age or their needs - is welcome.

Usually I decide on what it is I'm writing next by the books I'm reading.

I really like people and I keep friendships. I have people from all parts of my life.

Library campaigners are not prepared to stand by and watch something they cherish be dismantled brick by brick.

What we leave behind in this life is the memory of who we were and what we did. An imprint, no more.

One cannot always marry the person one loves.