“Yet just as the day has two halves, one governed by the sun and the other by the moon.”

So there are many who are people of the day and who busy themselves with daytime deeds.

For this occurs just as clay is first molded into one, then shaped into another form, for the Devil is a potter and his witches are but clay.

Whilst others are children of the night, their minds consumed with nocturnal notions; but yet there are some in whom the two merge like the rising of the sun and the moon in a day.

I would not be the same spiritually if I had not been beautiful.

I am used to being beautiful. I have been beautiful for so long that it is an essential part of me.

For as from the same piece of clay a potter may fashion either a pot or a tile, so the Devil may shape a witch into a wolf or a cat or even a goat, without subtracting from her and without adding to her at all.

When I start writing, I do two pages a day; if I’m gonna do 320, that’s 160 days.

A good gardener looks at every plant every day.

The days weren’t long enough for the reading she wanted to do.

Having adventures and covering the activities of world leaders, appealed to me greatly. It was a very glamorous life in those days.

I turned down a knighthood. It would be like having to wear a suit every day of your life.

But then, when I did go, the contrast between Leeds, which was very black and sooty in those days, and Cambridge, which seemed like something out of a fairystory, in the grip of a hard frost, was just wonderful.

I saw someone peeing in Jermym Street the other day. I thought, is this the end of civilization as we know it? Or is it simply someone peeing in Jermyn Street?

My grandmother flew only once in her life, and that was the day she and her new husband ascended into the skies of Victorian London in the wicker basket of a hot-air balloon.