Writers Are Always Envious, Mean-minded, Filled With

Living Where I Live New York I Don't Think Anyone's Going To Make A Fuss. But It Is More Deeply Satisfying Because It's Of Your Place And Means That You Aren't Forgotten; Someone's Noticed What You Have Been Doing With Your Life.

At The Very End Of A Book I Can Manage To Work For Longer Stretches, But Mostly, Making Stuff Up For Three Hours, That's Enough. I Can't Do Any More. At The End Of The Day I Might Tinker With My Morning's Work And Maybe Write Some Again. But I Think Three Hours Is Fine.

Being Famous As A Writer Is Like Being Famous In A Village. It's Not Really Any Very Heady Fame.

The Declared Meaning Of A Spoken Sentence Is Only Its Overcoat, And The Real Meaning Lies Underneath Its Scarves And Buttons.

I Had Known Loneliness Before, And Emptiness Upon The Moor, But I Had Never Been A Nothing, A Nothing Floating On A Nothing, Known By Nothing, Lonelier And Colder Than The Space Between The Stars. It Was More Frightening Than Being Dead.