Yes, sometimes I think that all my writing is nothing more than the compensatory work of a frustrated painter.

Science and technology multiply around us. To an increasing extent they dictate the languages in which we speak and think. Either we use those languages, or we remain mute.

I think the enemy of creativity in the world today is that so much thinking is done for you.

There is a British pop group called God. At a recent book signing the lead singer introduced himself and gave me a cassette. I have heard the voice of God.

Surrender to a logic more powerful than reason.

My brief stay at the hospital had already convinced me that the medical profession was an open door to anyone nursing a grudge against the human race.

Au revoir, jewelled alligators and white hotels, hallucinatory forests, farewell.