Garden Work Clears The Mind.

I Dream A Lot, In Colour And In Sound And Scent. Quite A Few Of My Stories Have Come From Dreams.

A Man Who Casts No Shadow Isn't Really A Man At All.

I Carried Recipes In My Head Like Maps.

Clones Fit In. Freaks Stand Out. Ask Me Which One I Prefer.

Drunkeness, She Told Us In A Rare Moment Of Confidence, Is A Sin Against The Fruit, The Tree, The Wine Itself. Wine, Distilled And Nurtured From Bud Into Fruit; It Deserves Reverance. Joy. Gentleness. (page 194.)