In life, there are no perfect affections.

Before trying a novel I wrote a couple of plays.

At college I'd seen my dead frog's limbs twitch under some applied stimulus or other - seen, but hadn't believed. Didn't dream of thinking beyond or around what I saw.

The simplest science book is over my head.

Arthur Young's Reflexive Universe - fascinating but too schematic to fit into my scheme. The most I could hope for was a sense of the vocabulary and some possible images.

Strange about parents. We have such easy access to them and such daunting problems of communication.

The day is breaking someone else's heart.