I really think I write about everyday life. I don't think I'm quite as odd as others say I am. Life is intrinsically, well, boring and dangerous at the same time. At any given moment the floor may open up. Of course, it almost never does; that's what makes it so boring.

It's well we cannot hear the screams we make in other people's dreams.

Z is for Zillah who drank too much gin.

If you're doing nonsense it has to be rather awful, because there'd be no point. I'm trying to think if there's sunny nonsense. Sunny, funny nonsense for children — oh, how boring, boring, boring. As Schubert said, there is no happy music. And that's true, there really isn't. And there's probably no happy nonsense, either.

Some tiny creature, mad with wrath, is coming nearer on the path.

To take my work seriously would be the height of folly.

I tend to be rather inconsequential and trail off.