Out of some persistent sense of large-scale ruin, we kept inventing hope.

It was only when I found myself writing things I didn't realise I knew that I said, 'I'm a writer now.'

Maybe when we die, the first thing we'll say is 'I know this feeling. I was here before'.

Doesn't seem quite real. It's not meaningful. I can't quite imagine myself being 73. That's the age my father was! [Laughter.] How can I be his age? It's weird.

The modern meaning of life's end-when does it end? How does it end? How should it end? What is the value of life? How do we measure it?

I am not particularly distressed by the state of fiction or the role of the writer. The more marginal, perhaps ultimately the more trenchant and observant and finally necessary he'll become.

Do people still shoot at presidents? I thought there were more stimulating targets.' (20)