If I waited till I felt like writing, I'd never write at all.

I'm falling into disrepair

Something was wrong with a world where people came and went so easily.

I hated childhood, and spent it sitting behind a book waiting for adulthood to arrive.

Sooner or later, even the sharpest pain became flattened.

I didn't really choose to write; I more or less fell into it.

It seems to me that good novels celebrate the mystery in ordinary life, and summing it all up in psychological terms strips the mystery away