'The day felt dreamy and momentous all at once. Was it possible to feel nostalgic about something before it was even over?'
“When we are sad—at least I am like this—it can be comforting to cling to familiar objects, to the things that don't change. Your descriptions of the desert—that oceanic, endless glare—are terrible but also very beautiful. Maybe there's something to be said for the rawness and emptiness of it all."
"I wanted all of life to feel that frantic and pressurized with portent, so even colours and weather and tastes would be more saturated. That’s what the songs promised, what they trawled out of me."
"I thought we together, we will spend time together and our lifes will never be separated. I thought I don't needing go these double-bill screenings to kill raining nights. I thought I will not scared to live in this country alone, because now I having you, and you my family, my home. But I wrong. You doesn't promise anything solid."
'I was trying, desperately, to keep a hold on my world - my job, my vanished husband and my column - but I was disconnecting. The ties to my ordinary life were loosening, snapping, and the dark world of Bethan Avery was becoming more real than my own.'
"I realised that without the whole truth my life would have no power, no real meaning... The process of writing has been the processes of remembering, and of trying to make sense out of those memories. I understand that sometimes the only way we can survive our own memories is to shape them into a story that makes sense out of events that seem inexplicable."
‘If I have learnt anything in this long life of mine, it is this: In love we find out who we want to be; in war we find out who we are. Today’s young people want to know everything about everyone. They think talking about a problem will solve it. I come from a quieter generation. We understand the value of forgetting, the lure of reinvention.’
'The water was steady and black. An inch below the surface my body disappeared as if it didn't exist. I swam straight out towards the rising sun, which was under-lighting the clouds with a dramatic orange as if I had been swimming into a Renaissance landscape.'
"She is safe now. Free from her demons. Her final resting place is still and tranquil, a little watery pocket of calm..."