There's no end to the inventiveness of critics, I tell you. Because they can't write fiction, they put their impulse into their analysis of work.

Ideals jump across the hierarchies of the printed word.

That vision of a common culture is now simply a remote wistfulness.

You have to assert something about yourself in order to be yourself.

The trouble with words is that you never know whose mouths they've been in.

I did not fully understand the dread term 'terminal illness' until I saw Heathrow for myself.

The knowledge that we have about what it is to be human that we have as a child is something we necessarily must lose.