Dinner at the Huntercombes' possessed only two dramatic features - the wine was a farce and the food a tragedy.

It is not what happens to people that is significant, but what they think happens to them.

Writing is above all a question of instinct.

On the stage . . . masks are assumed with some regard to procedure; in everyday life, the participants act their parts without consideration either for suitability of scene or for the words spoken by the rest of the cast: the result is a general tendency for things to be brought to the level of farce even when the theme is serious enough.

I get a warm feeling among my books.

There is, after all, no pleasure like that given by a woman who really wants to see you.

The whole idea of interviews is in itself absurd - one cannot answer deep questions about what one's life was like - one writes novels about it.