For God's sake stop making people in your image. Harry was real. He wasn't just your hero and my lover. He was Harry. He was in a racket. He did bad things. What about it? He was the man we knew.

It's a good world if you don't weaken.

A story has no beginning or end: arbitrarily one chooses that moment of experience from which to look back or from which to look ahead.

It was as though our love were a small creature caught in a trap and bleeding to death: I had to shut my eyes and wring its neck.

All good novelists have bad memories.

Sooner or later... one has to take sides. If one is to remain human.

I say that home is where there is a chair and a glass.