The downtrodden are the great creators of slang.

The book I am best known for, or only known for, is a novel I am prepared to repudiate: written a quarter of a century ago, a jeu d'esprit knocked off for money in three weeks, it became known as the raw material for a film which seemed to glorify sex and violence. The film made it easy for readers of the book to misunderstand what it was about, and the misunderstanding will pursue me till I die. I should not have written the book because of this danger of misinterpretation.

I was cured all right.

As we grow older, the memories of early life brighten, those of maturity and senescence grow dim and confused.

Death comes along like a gas bill one can't pay.

The practice of fiction can be dangerous: it puts ideas into the head of the world.

Civilised my syphilised yarbles.