Every jack has his jill; if only they can find each other.
I enjoy writing scripts. I can find out what happens. With an outline, I feel like I'm doing an architectural diagram of something.
Perfection is like chasing the horizon. Keep moving.
Dahling, when God put teeth in your mouth, he ruined a perfectly good arsehole.
Grown-ups don't look like grown-ups on the inside either. Outside, they're big and thoughtless and they always know what they're doing. Inside, they look just like they always have. Like they did when they were your age. Truth is, there aren't any grown-ups. Not one, in the whole wide world.
In a world where people die every day, I think the important thing to remember is that for each moment of sorrow we get when people leave this world there's a corresponding moment of joy when a new baby comes into this world. That first wail is-well, it's magic, isn't it? Perhaps it's a hard thing to say, but joy and sorrow are like milk and cookies. That's how well they go together. I think we should all take a moment to meditate on that.
I watched my life as if it were happening to someone else. My son died. And I was hurt, but I watched my hurt, and even relished it, a little, for now I could write a real death, a true loss. My heart was broken by my dark lady, and I wept, in my room, alone; but while I wept, somewhere inside I smiled.
For myself, losing is not coming second. It's getting out of the water knowing you could have done better. For myself, I have won every race I've been in
Our children are the only possessions we can take to heaven.
After all the dangerous adventures I'd had, I couldn't die like this. Sadie would be devastated. Then, once she got over her grief, she'd track down my soul in the Egyptian afterlife and tease me mercilessly for how stupid I'd been.
I wrote my earliest piece for The Sunday Times about being a young wife.