Cynics are - beneath it all - only idealists with awkwardly high standards.

I assemble my ideas in pieces on a computer file, then gradually find a place for them on a piece of scaffolding I erect.

In Britain, because I live here, I can also run into problems of envy and competition. But all this is just in a day's work for a writer. You can't put stuff out there without someone calling you a complete fool. Oh, well.

The study of maps and the perusal of travel books aroused in me a secret fascination that was at times almost irresistible.

The desire for high status is never stronger than in situations where "ordinary" life fails to answer a median need for dignity and comfort.

Most of our childhood is stored not in photos, but in certain biscuits, lights of day, smells, textures of carpet.

The degree of sympathy we feel regarding another's fiasco is directly proportional to how easy or difficult it is for us to imagine ourselves, under like circumstances, making a similar mistake.