Occupation: Author Birth: May 15, 1951
We have each other, and our stories twist and mingle like the twisting currents of a river. We hold each other tight as we spin and lurch across our ….
The best tip for writing is just to write; to sit down and write, to begin doing it and not to be scared by the blank page..
A good bookshop is not just about selling books from shelves, but reaching out into the world and making a difference..
Sometimes we just have to accept there are things we can’t know. Why is your sister ill? Why did my father die?…Sometimes we think we should be able ….
Everybody's got the seam of goodness in them, Kit," said Grandpa. "Just a matter of whether it can be found and brought out into the light..
Words should wander and meander. They should fly like owls and flicker like bats and slip like cats. They should murmur and scream and dance and sing..
Truth and dreams are always getting muddled..
Writing will be like a journey, every word a footstep that takes me further into undiscovered land..
And what is wrong with playing with words? Words love to be played with, just like children or kittens do!.
Anything seems possible at night when the rest of the world has gone to sleep..
Yes. But sad's alright. Sad's just apart of everything.
Maybe we're all in somebody's dream. Maybe everything's a dream, and nothing else..
Its always been the case that politicians want different things from children than good educators do. Good educators want imaginative, exploratory be….
There's light and joy, but there's also darkness all around and we can be lost in it..
They say that shoulder blades are where your wings were, when you were an angel," she said. "They say they're where your wings will grow again one da….
She finds tales everywhere, in grains of sand she picks up from the garden, in puffs of smoke that drift out from the chimneys of the village, in fra….
We have to allow ourselves to see what there is to see, and we have to imagine..
We come to a lamp beside the pathway, and suddenly we stop walking, and we start to dance, and we glitter in the shafts of light, like stars, like fl….
I don't want to be little again. But at the same time I do. I want to be me like I was then, and me as I am now, and me like I'll be in the future. I….
Then what shall I write? I can't just write that this happened then this happened then this happened to boring infinitum. I'll let my journal grow ju….
I sit in my tree I sing like the birds My beak is my pen My songs are my poems..