I always felt like I was meant to have been born in another era, another time.

Matthew and I used to read Dickens together. Oh my god, it was so great. We would sit in the bathtub and pass the book back and forth reading passages out loud.

In the end, love wins. It does win. We know it wins. When a person dies, love isn’t turned off like a faucet. It is an amazingly resilient part of us.

If the selection process is right and its members GOOD, then there could be no reason why the collection of the teammates be not BETTER and bright who would work in the BEST interest of the organization, either individually or jointly, to bring sustainability in achieving newer growth height.

The questions that I ask myself, I think they're very much to do with reality. I would really like to have had the guts and the energy and so on to be able to write about, you know, people having battles with the DHSS. But I...I haven't. They're dull things. I mean, I'm an arty person. OK, I write overblown, purple, self-indulgent prose. So fucking what?

The hardest part of writing is not to get the ideas but to remember, why it is important to get them.