Not all of it was done by soldiers, or by men. She’d shut her eyes and run her fingers over Jack’s shoulders, down his spine, as a blind person might seek to recognise the shape of something. The shape—the ache in her own flesh—of her love for him.

Artists know that diligence counts as much, if not more, as inspiration; in art, as in politics, patience counts as much as revolution.

My first album is like a terrible John Hammond album, with drums.

He was there or was not there: not there if I didn't see him.

Written By Henry James

About us

Featured posts

Featured Topics

Quick Links