Whenever there’s a story happening, there’s more than one story happening.

A little bit of one story joins onto an idea from another, and hey presto, . . . not old tales but new ones. Nothing comes from nothing.

No story sits by itself. Our lives connect like threads on a loom, interwoven in ways we never realise.

Each affects the other, and the other affects the next, and the world is full of stories, but the stories are all one.

Stories are like a river that flows - you dip a bucket in it

Good writing takes place at intersections, at what you might call knots, at places where the society is snarled or knotted up.

Take one story, viewed from two different angles. It is the same day, the same moment, but one angle ends happily... and the other ends badly.

Perhaps the story you finish is never the one you begin.

For we are all bound in stories, and as the years pile up they turn to stone, layer upon layer, building our lives.

Other people's stories may become part of your own, the foundation of it, the ground it goes on.

One story is good, till another is told.

I watched the people passing below, each of them a story, each story part of somebody else's, all of it connected to the big story of the world. People weren't islands, so far as I was concerned. How could they be, when their stories kept getting tangled up in everybody else's?

For every once upon a time there must be a story to follow, because if a story doesn't, something else will, and it might not be as harmless as a story.

There's always another story. There's more than meets the eye.