she runs for her life because to slip up is to begin descending the slippery slope to giving in to failure, to inertia, to feeling sorry for herself about that moment in her life which still creeps to the front of her memory when she least expects it

it took her years to realise she wasn't being slow and stupid, she leaned the hard way to shoehorn herself into debates, to force them to explain exactly what the hell they were talking about, to hold them to account.

he never fails to amuse her, never fails to be there for her when she wants him, to love her as she wants to be loved, to leave her alone when she needs solitude

Winsome wished he hadn't awakened a longing in her that he wouldn't satisfy. He'd given her a taste of himself and then withdrawn it. She didn't hate him for it, she wanted him more because of it.

Penelope embarked on a campaign to lobby Giles for her return ti work, who still insisted she remain at home sit was the natural order of things going back to time immemorial: me hunter - you homemaker me breadwinner - you bread-maker me child maker - you child raiser

It was so odd seeing a stage full of black women tonight, all of the as dark or darker than her, a first, although rather than feel validated, she felt slightly embarrassed. If only the play was about the first black woman prime minister of Britain, or a Nobel prize-winner for science, or a self-made billionaire, someone who represented legitimate success at the highest levels, instead of lesbian warriors strutting around and falling for each other.