“He had to stop his body being swept away, by wind, by time, by continental drift, by shooting stars, by shame.”

Quote from ‘Being Dead’ by Jim Crace

“Then all at once they scatter yellow rose petals into the water, and as the river carries them past the cafe it is as though there was a reflection in the water of the cloths of heaven.”

Quote from ‘Love Like Salt’ by Helen Stevenson

“Well, whatever it is I’ve ended, it’s given me this very swanky green coat.

He wraps it around him. It’s a good fit, it smells leafy and fresh. He would make a good tailor. He has made something, made something of himself. His mother would be pleased at last.

Oh God. Is there still mother after death?”

From ‘Autumn’ by Ali Smith

“But I began then to think of time as having a shape, something you could see, like a series of liquid transparencies, one laid on top of another. You don’t look back along time but down through it, like water. Sometimes this comes to the surface, sometimes that, sometimes nothing. Nothing goes away.

From ‘Cat’s Eye’ by Margaret Atwood

“Moments left, Teddy thought. A handful of heartbeats. That was what life was. A heartbeat followed by a heartbeat. A breath followed by a breath. One moment followed by another moment and then there was a last moment. Life was as fragile as a bird’s heartbeat, fleeting as the bluebells in the wood. It didn’t matter, he realized, he didn’t mind, he was going where millions had gone before and where millions would follow after. He shared his fate with the many. And now. This moment. This moment was infinite. He was part of the infinite. The tree and the rock and the water. The rising of the sun and the running of the deer. Now.”

From “A God in Ruins” by Kate Atkinson

“I derive the greatest pleasure from travelling. I like the idea of knocking about the world and getting used to the ways and customs of men.”

Margaret Fountaine

“The only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn like fabulous yellow roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars”

From ‘On The Road’ by Jack Kerouac

“A story was a form of telepathy. By means of inking symbols onto a page, she was able to send thoughts and feelings from her mind to her reader’s. It was a magical process, so commonplace that no one stopped to wonder at it.”

From ‘Atonement’ by Ian McEwan

“They wanted spring, of course they wanted it, more than anything. They longed for sun with every pore of their skin. But spring hurts. If spring can come, if things can be different, how can you bear what your existence has been?”

From ‘The Siege’ by Helen Dunmore