I like big doses of grief when I read: Richard Yates, Flannery O'Connor, Kenzabaro Oe, Thomas Bernhard.

I'm an enormous fan of Thomas Bernhard's books, and I like the relentless feeling in his work - the pursuit of darkness, the negative - and I think in some sense I've internalised that as what one is supposed to do.

She grieves sincerely who grieves unseen. [Lat., Illa dolet vere qui sine teste dolet.]

I read a lot of scripts, so I know by page 25 if I like it or not.

Were floods of tears to be unloosed In tribute to my grief, The doves of Noah ne'er had roost Nor found an olive-leaf.

There is no grief which time does not lessen and soften. [Lat., Nullus dolor est quem non longinquitas temporis minuat ac molliat.]