I have almost completed a long novel, but it is unpublishable until my death and England's.

There's enough sorrow in the world, isn't there, without trying to invent it.

The bully and his victim never quite forget their first relations.

I'm a holy man minus the holiness. Hand that on to your three spies, and tell them to put it in their pipes.

Life never gives us what we want at the moment that we consider appropriate.

Men were not gods after all, but as human and as clumsy as girls.

Only connect the prose and the passion, and both will be exalted, and human love will be seen at its highest. Live in fragments no longer