The Labour party is mainly full of amazing people who care so much about equality and social justice they are probably a bit of a bore at a family do.
— Jess Phillips
I'm a believer in forgiveness. I have worked with people who have been in gangs and now dedicate their lives to helping inner city kids. I've run offender services with teachings of responsibility, empathy and understanding of the victims at their heart. I've seen people change.
I don't think Jeremy Corbyn hates women - I don't think Jeremy hates anyone. Spend even one minute with him and you would want to take him down to the pub and sink a pint of mild with the man. However, in the hard left of British politics lurks a gruesome misogyny.
Every time I speak up about anything to do with women or ethnic minorities, hundreds of messages pour in to attempt to silence or frighten me.
I have not always behaved well. I can admit that. I get things wrong, I learn.
Being in France means that I am surrounded by examples of nationalised services that work.
My paternal grandma was a raving Thatcherite, one who had a xenophobic turn of phrase for most proceedings.
It might be easy to brush away the febrile atmosphere online as a nasty byproduct of free expression: it's less easy when it happens to you.
When my children were little, I would chat with my husband or my mum friends about how we were superior parents to other people, or that so-and-so was lying about how their children slept through the night.
I am not into self-exploration. My family would lose their eyes in the backs of their heads if people talked about personal journeys or finding oneself.
In short, that politicians do or don't have families should no longer have any bearing on their abilities to hold office or to care more or less about the future of the country.
In the world of fiction, politics usually appears considerably more exciting than it is.
The politics of hope is harder to spread than the politics of hate.
For me socialism has never been an intellectual pursuit. It comes from my upbringing and experience.
Anyone standing for leader of the Labour party has a responsibility to speak truth, because without that we will never win power.
Our challenge is to restore both trust in Labour as a party of government and trust in democracy as the best means of delivering what the public wants.
We've all got to discover the courage to ask the difficult questions about the future of our party and the future of the working-class communities who need a Labour government.
I like second chances; I've had a few myself.
But when I'm asked a question I will answer it honestly. There is no spin here.
Pressure and protest is fine, but using fear and threats to force politicians to sing to a certain tune will be the death of our democracy.
Still, I love a campaign. I'm never happier than when I'm fighting shoulder to shoulder with our growing army of foot soldiers.
The desire to look strong and decisive, instead of looking human, is the fatal flaw of so many politicians, and I will never understand why the favoured path of the political class is akin to a child with chocolate smeared on their face insisting that they didn't eat the edible Christmas tree ornaments while their parents slept.
I don't know how all of my friends vote; it doesn't come up. But it would be a lie to say that I don't surround myself with people who have a similar moral code to mine.
When your worldview is challenged, you'd be surprised how quickly you can find a way to dismiss reality.
I've carried witty banners against laws that would curtail my freedoms.
If a friend got a big promotion, I would outwardly congratulate them, but inside I would painfully compare myself with them and think that their success was a reflection on my failings.
My family is just like most other families - we rise and fall on good and bad government policy. Politics affects us all.
I'm not usually one to heap praise on Jeremy Corbyn but I love that he doesn't drag his wife on stage for awkward snogs after his annual speech at the party conference.
Rhe language of politics is experienced by most as spin with the assumption of dishonesty.
I have felt the force of what governments can do. I remember my elder son being in the first cohort of kids who got a free nursery place, I remember the palliative care my mother got at home as I watched her die.
For a party of the left to win, people have to have believe that government, the state, can be on their side. When I was a young mother, Sure Start and tax credits weren't just a financial lifeline, they represented hope.
Lisa Nandy is absolutely right that we need to devolve economic power away from Westminster and learn from what Labour councils around the country are doing.
People just don't believe we'll deliver what we say we will. They don't believe we want to listen or to understand their lives. And they don't believe we are able to do much to make their lives better.
I am apoplectic that people no longer expect progress because for so long they have worn the clothes of decline.
Ken Livingstone appears incapable of contrition. That is why he must be thrown out of the Labour party. He is so certain he is right about everything, he won't come close to change.
I am a party worker ant - always have been, always will be.
Regardless of how people love to deride politicians, democracy is not an easy gig. My decisions, views and heartfelt principles are dismissed by so many as careerist, opportunist or attention-seeking.
In an election campaign, sleep is for the weak.
The ability to say 'I was wrong' or to own up to your mistakes is very powerful. I teach my children that admitting fault is the quickest way to stop the problem, move on and get on with whatever it is you should be doing.
Personally, I find the decisions and actions of my Tory colleagues appalling, but I also know plenty of Labour voters who are less than perfect.
When working at Women's Aid, I met countless women whose families had not believed them when they spoke of their abuse at the hands of another loved one.
If the internet has taught me anything it is that people are either heroes or they belong in the bin.
I made a decision to stop feeling envious of other people, to crack on with my life and stop comparing myself with others.
As a mother, I want the very best for my children. As a politician, I want what is best for all children.
Political books are so often written from the perspective of the politicians, not from the point of view of the people.
The Labour party is not perfect but I have seen in my own life how it is the greatest vehicle for positive hopeful social change.
Every day in Yardley I meet people who are living in grotty hotels because there are no homes for them, or single parents nearly #400 worse off a month because of universal credit. I meet people with terminal illnesses who have been refused their benefits.
Today we're more distanced from each other, the bonds formed at the local shop replaced by the massive supermarket or the stressed driver thrusting a package through a letterbox. Instead of meeting in pubs, more of us sit at home with supermarket wine and Netflix.
If we reduce the minimum voting age to 16, as we should, then people could be auto-registered when they are issued with a national insurance card.
Join Labour to help change Labour. Help those of us willing to ask the difficult questions by adding your voice to the debate that's coming.
