I hated historical novels with fluttering cloaks.
Everyone who tells a story tells it differently, just to remind us that everybody sees it differently. Some people say there are true things to be found, some people say all kinds of things can be proved. I don't believe them. The only thing for certain is how complicated it all is, like string full of knots. It's all there but hard to find the beginning and impossible to fathom the end. The best you can do is admire the cat's cradle, and maybe knot it up a bit more.
The truth is that love smashes into your life like an ice floe, and even if your heart is built like the Titanic you go down.
Art saved me; it got me through my depression and self-loathing, back to a place of innocence.
Nobody knows anything about Shakespeare the person. It's all legend, it is all rumor.
Always in my books, I like to throw that rogue element into a stable situation and then see what happens.