He wished he had inhabited more of his life, used it better, filled it fuller.

When I read, I'm purely a reader

I love to think about chance - about how one little overheard word, one pebble in a shoe, can change the universe.

My decision to start a new one is just that, a decision, since I never get inspirations.

Now peculiar scraps of knowledge were stuck to him like lint from all his jobs.

I think it must be very hard to be one of the new young writers who are urged to put themselves forward when it may be the last thing on earth they'd be good at

I'm falling into disrepair