Beauman, Sally. 2001. Rebecca’s Tale. pg. 271.
“Other nights I’d crouch in the prompt corner, listening to those winged words, learning those winged words. I knew tracts of them by heart, yet; they still light up my mind. I hear the meanings behind the meanings under the meanings – what an echo chamber! Max always wants words to be shackled, so “love” means this and “hate” means that. Lock them up in a poor prison of sense and slam the door on them. I don’t agree. Words should take you on journeys – and the journey that taught me that began and ended in the same place: Plymouth, in a street called Marine Parade, in a house called St. Agnes.”