“I would say I'm sorry he didn't make it, ... And I don't mean that in a flip way. I'm sorry he didn't get to see everything that happened because of him and to have enjoyed this part of this life. He would have had a great relationship with his sons.”
“Not true, ... They were best friends. They were together all the time, all four of them. John and Paul wrote together or apart, then they brought their writing to each other.”
“The next day at college he followed me to the girls' loos (toilets) in the basement. When I came out he was waiting with a dark look on his face. Before I could speak he raised his arm and hit me across the face, knocking my head into the pipes that ran down the wall behind me.”
“He wanted proof, daily, that he mattered most to me. All sense of reason disappeared and his tantrums were awesome; he would batter away at me verbally until I gave in. Then he was back to his usual self, apologetic and loving.”
