I rarely ever put my head above the rampart and see where this big lumbering behemoth called 'global literature' is going.

. . .my dreams are the single unpredictable factor in my zoned days and nights. Nobody allots them, or censors them. Dreams are all I have ever truly owned.

Only professional diplomats, inveterate idiots and women view diplomacy as a long-term substitute for war.

Writing is probably one-fifth coming up with the stuff, and four-fifths self-editing again and again and again.

Truth is singular. Its 'versions' are mistruths.

One fine day a predatory world shall consume itself.

Science devises ever bloodier means of war until humanity's powers of destruction overcome our powers of creation and our civilisation drives itself to extinction.