A True Friend Is A Light In

There's A Market For Mysteries For Adults. That Feeling Of Opening A Book And Delving Inside And Not Coming Out Until You've Closed The Book.

Adults Weren’t Supposed To Understand Their Children And You Were Doing Something Wrong If They Did.

It's A Funny Thing, Character, The Way It Brands People As They Age, Rising From Within To Leave Its Scar.

People Might Think Writing Is A Hard Business, But It's Nowhere Near Acting.

Round And Round The Questions Flew, Until Finally I Found Myself Standing At The Open Door Of A Bookshop. It’s Natural In Times Of Great Perplexity, I Think, To Seek Out The Familiar, And The High Shelves And Long Rows Of Neatly Lined-up Spines Were Immensely Reassuring. Amid The Smell Of Ink And Binding, The Dusty Motes In Beams Of Strained Sunlight, The Embrace Of Warm, Tranquil Air, I Felt That I Could Breathe More Easily.