Quotes from Sue Townsend

I'm spectacularly disorganised. I wrote my latest book in seven different notebooks scattered throughout my house.

I always wanted to be Jo in 'Little Women.' She's a bit reckless and feckless, always getting into trouble like me. But I'm probably more like Madame Bovary.

When I was a child, I dreaded blindness. We used to ask: 'Would we rather be blind or deaf?' I said I'd rather be blind, even though I was scared of it. I couldn't bear not being able to hear music or talk to people.

People down on their luck deserve the best: beautiful surroundings and well-paid professional staff to help them out of their difficulties. Why not train thousands more social workers and let them sit in on claimants' interviews?

I've always been fascinated by totalitarian regimes. I'm not an admirer of them.

Love is the only thing that keeps me sane.

I think we take it for granted that if you are with your husband after 30 years, then he is the love of your life.

I am a very independent person, and I, you know, I maintain that independence, but, you know, certain things - I mean, it takes, you know, it's just much easier for other people if other people can help you every now and again.

My skin is dead good. I think it must be a combination of being in love and Lucozade.

I'd love a day devoid of responsibilities. I've often thought about going to a hotel just to have a day away from everything.

I took my sight and mobility for granted.

Yes, I hate it when people call me a 'national treasure'. It takes away your bite and makes you feel like a harmless old golden Labrador.

I hate it when people call me a 'national treasure.' It takes away your bite and makes you feel like a harmless old golden Labrador.

Lack of confidence - every time I start a new piece of work, it seems I have to spend a long while under the duvet thinking I can't do it.

I married two weeks after my 18th birthday, far too young, and by the time I was 23 I was a single mother of three small children, Sean, Daniel and Victoria, living in a prefab house.

I haven't used my brain for so long, the poor thing is huddled in a corner, waiting to be fed.

Women are mysterious creatures, Dr Bee.

It was three o'clock in the morning. A time when frail people die.

You should only speak when you have something worth saying.

A. MOLE'S SCONES Ingredients 4 oz flour or metric equivalent 2 oz butter or metric equivalent 2 oz sugar or metric equivalent 1 egg (eggs are still only eggs) Method Beat up all the ingredients. Make a tin greasy, throw it all in. Turn oven to number 5. Wait until scones are higher than they were. Should be 12 minutes, but keep opening oven door every 30 seconds.

I've been a bit worried about my maleness lately, somewhere along the line I seem to have picked up too many female hormones.

At four o'clock I had one of those rare moments of happiness that I will remember all my life. I was sitting in front of Grandma's electric coal fire eating dripping toast and reading the News of the World. There was a good play on Radio Four about torturing in concentration camps. Grandma was asleep and the dog was being quiet. All at once I felt this dead good feeling. Perhaps I am turning religious. I think I have got it in me to be a Saint of some kind.

Just measured my thing. It has grown one centimetre. I might be needing it soon.

I am very unhappy and have once again turned to great literature for solace. It's no surprise to me that intellectuals commit suicide, go mad or die from drink. We feel things more than other people. We know the world is rotten and that chins are ruined by spots.