We never love anyone. Not really. We only love our idea of another person. It is some conception of our own that we love. We love ourselves, in fact. — William Boyd Copy Share Image
I stood there in the kitchen, watching her staring across the meadow still searching for her nemesis and I thought, suddenly, that this is all our lives - this is the one fact that applies to us all, that makes… — William Boyd Copy Share Image
“Here at its extremities the terrified transients gathered, gazing out at the vast refulgent ocean for some sign of security.” — William Boyd Copy Share Image
“We all possess, like it or not, the people we know, and are possessed by them in turn.” — William Boyd Copy Share Image
“A warm sunny evening, the plash and gurgle of the waves in the rock pools, the rush of the cold gin. I thought for… — William Boyd Copy Share Image
I have this lock of hair that keeps falling across my forehead. It drives me mad. — William Boyd Copy Share Image
With film, you have very limited tools to convey subjectivity - voiceover, the camera's point of view, good acting - but even the very… — William Boyd Copy Share Image
“any man over forty who deliberately combs his hair forward in a child’s fringe has something suspect about him,” — William Boyd Copy Share Image
There are things in life we don't understand, and when we meet them, all we can do is let them alone. — William Boyd Copy Share Image
“Feelings of depression; feelings of frustration; feelings of emptiness in the face of all this randomness - done down by the haphazard, yet again.” — William Boyd Copy Share Image
