Over the city lies the sweet, rotting odor of yesterday's unrecollected sins.

Watching live actors onstage, in something that changes night by night, real people picking up cues from each other, it concentrates you on the process rather than the result.

By the tits of Holy Agnes

The word 'however' is like an imp coiled beneath your chair. It induces ink to form words you have not yet seen, and lines to march across the page and overshoot the margin. There are no endings. If you think so you are deceived as to their nature. They are all beginnings. Here is one.

Memory isn't a theme; it's part of the human condition.

As a writer, you owe it to yourself not to get stuck in a rut of looking at the world in a certain way.

I think it is going to take another fifty years for the report to be in. If I were to give a preliminary report, I would say that [Margaret Thatcher] wrecked this country.