“Someone to talk to, to share with, to run things by.”

Pomegranate Soup is glorious, daring and delightful.

Moments are history. If you have enough of them, they become a story.

People have often told me that one of their strongest childhood memories is the scent of their grandmother’s house.

I loved to read, still do, and it seemed that the writing was a result of the love of books and reading and libraries.

Maybe a first love exists to remind you to be brave in the moment, to stand up for your feelings, instead of shrinking back in the face of potential loneliness.

Sometimes there aren’t reasons behind the terrible things that go on.

I can only get up and do my chores and push through the day and find the good in it.

You have work anytime. But love? Not always.

A good mother is irreplaceable.

The only urgent thing in life is the pursuit of love. You get that one right, and you’ve solved the mystery.

This is where men and women are different, we can put aside petty competition for relationships – they can’t. It interferes.

A library is a home filled with our stories.

There is no one on earth who knew you from the day you were born; who knew why you cried, or when you’d had enough food; who knew exactly what to say when you were hurting.

Two different things. Work is survival, and love sustains you.

I am still emotional when I look at those boxes checked yes.

But when the morning comes, I realize that there’s nothing to be done about what has already happened.

There is a percentage of people who want to be a little bit outside their comfort zone and I am one of them, someone who lives on the edge.

Someone said they saw you in Nepal a long time back. Tell me why you look away, don’t you have a word to say?

Perhaps it is true that we do not really exist until there is someone there to see us existing, we cannot properly speak until there is someone who can understand what we are saying in essence, we are not wholly alive until we are loved.

Our disrespect for thinking: someone sitting in a chair, gazing out of a window blankly, always described as ‘doing nothing’.

Intimacy is the capacity to be rather weird with someone – and finding that that’s ok with them.

In fact, when I come up with an idea for a parody I try to resist the urge to Google the idea to see if someone has done it already because the answer is almost always, “Yes, of course they have, they’ve thought of it!”

You have to be quite heavily invested in someone to do them the honour of telling them you’re annoyed with them.

The good parent: someone who doesn’t mind, for a time, being hated by their children.