Now, being in Africa, I was hungry for more of it, the changes of the seasons, the rains with no need to travel, the discomforts that you paid to make it real, the names of the trees, of the small animals, and all the birds, to know the language and have time to be in it and to move slowly.

Ezra was right half the time, and when he was wrong, he was so wrong you were never in any doubt about it.

As to Hemingway, I read him for the first time in the early 'forties, something about bells, balls and bulls, and loathed it.

I may not be as stong as I think, but I know many tricks and I have resolution.

Writing is a hard business...but nothing makes you feel better.

Home is where the heart is, home is where the fart is. Come let us fart in the home. There is no art in a fart. Still a fart may not be artless. Let us fart and artless fart in the home.

Drinking is a way of ending the day.