Of course there are times when I hate London, but equally there are times when I can walk 'round a corner and I really feel that this is my place.

Part of the very impulse of writing for me is actually wanting to get away from myself.

Pillow talk. It's how you know, it's how you tell, that something different, something special is happening: that this might even be the most important night of your life. Some day -some night- I hope you both may know it, with whoever it may be: the wish, stealing up on you, not to just merge bodies, but all you have, all your years, all your memories up to that point. And why should you wish to do that, if you haven't already guessed that your future too, will be shared?

I do my thinking while I walk. It just loosens up the mind in the way that you don't get when you are sitting at a desk.

If people read 'Tomorrow' and feel that it is offering them some view of my own household, they would be very, very wrong.

What does education do, what does it have to offer, when deprived of its necessary partner, the future, and face instead with - no future at all?

All novelists must form their personal pacts in some way with the slowness of their craft. There are some who demand of themselves a 'rate of production,' for whom it's a matter of pride to complete, say, a book every year.