The past is what you remember, imagine you remember, convince yourself you remember, or pretend you remember.

Good writing excites me, and makes life worth living.

There are places in my heart...where no living soul...has...or can ever...trespass.

How can the unknown merit reverence? In other words how can you revere that of which you are ignorant? At the same time, it would be ridiculous to propose that what we know merits reverence. What we know merits any one of a number of things, but it stands to reason reverence isn't one of them. In other words, apart from the known and the unknown, what else is there?

There are some good rules and there are some lousy rules.

The Companion of Honour I regarded as an award from the country for 50 years of work - which I thought was okay.

I don't give a damn what other people think. It's entirely their own business. I'm not writing for other people.