When people really hate one another, the tension within them can sometimes make itself felt throughout a room, like atmospheric waves, first hot, then cold, wafted backwards and forwards as if in an invisible process of air conditioning, creating a pervasive physical disturbance.

Self-love seems so often unrequited.

Writing is a combination of intangible creative fantasy and appallingly hard work.

[T]here is no greater sign of innate misery than a love of teasing.

You have to be a product of the product.

When people really hate one another, the tension within them can sometimes make itself felt throughout a room, like atmospheric waves, first hot, then cold, wafted backwards and forwards as if in an invisible process of air conditioning, creating a pervasive physical disturbance.

Self-pity is essentially humorless, devoid of that lightness of touch which gives understanding of life.