It was like any other relationship, there was jealousy on both sides, there were split-ups and reconciliations. There were also fragmented moments of great peace and beauty. I often tried to get away from her and she tried to get away from me but it was difficult: Cupid, in his strange way, was really there.

Boring damned people. All over the earth. Propagating more boring damned people. What a horror show. The earth swarmed with them.

I have no time for things that have no soul.

Love is a form of prejudice. I have too many other prejudices.

Death is not the problem; waiting around for it is.

we know God is dead, they've told us, but listening to you I wasn't sure.

I guess for me Hemingway is a lot like it is for others: he goes down well when we are young.