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At The Risk Of Sounding Like Virginia Woolf, I Could Live On £700 A Year.

No One Knew About The Squirrel’s Skull Beneath Briony Bed, But No One Wanted To Know.

I've Always Thought Cruelty Is A Failure Of Imagination.

It Is Not The First Duty Of The Novelist To Provide Blueprints For Insurrection, Or Uplifting Tales Of Successful Resistance For The Benefit Of The Opposition. The Naming Of What Is There Is What Is Important.

But To Do Its Noticing And Judging, Poetry Balances Itself On The Pinprick Of The Moment. Slowing Down, Stopping Yourself Completely, To Read And Understand A Poem Is Like Trying To Acquire An Old-fashioned Skill.