All love, ultimately, is self-love. - Robert Galbraith

Other people his age had houses and washing machines, cars and television sets, furniture and gardens and mountain bikes and lawnmowers: he had four boxes of crap, and a set of matchless memories.

Writers are different,” said Waldegrave. “I’ve never met one who was any good who wasn’t screwy.

It was four in the morning, the hopeless hour when shivering insomniacs inhabit a world of hollow shadow, and existence seems frail and strange.