It's the people who love us or hate us - or both - who hold together the thousands of fragments we are made of.

The fictional treatment of biographical material - a treatment that for me is essential - is full of traps.

At most, I may write when I am disturbed by something. I have recently discovered the pleasure of finding written answers to written questions.

Is it possible that even happy moments of pleasure never stand up to a rigorous examination? Possible.

Climbing the economic ladder has been very hard for me; I still feel a great deal of guilt towards those I left behind.

The circle of an empty day is brutal and at night it tightens around your neck like a noose

It's the people who love us or hate us - or both - who hold together the thousands of fragments we are made of.