Hazard has conditioned us to live in hazard. All our pleasures are dependent on it. Even though I arrange for a pleasure, and look forward to it, my eventual enjoyment of it is still a matter of hazard. Wherever time passes, there is hazard.

Forgetting’s not something you do, it happens to you. Only it didn’t happen to me.

I was too green to know that all cynicism masks a failure to cope - an impotence, in short; and that to despise all effort is the greatest effort of all.

I am infinitely strange to myself.

I knew I would always want to go on living with myself, however hollow I became, however diseased.

I love making, I love doing. I love being to the full, I love everything which is not sitting and watching and copying and dead at heart.

Just those three words, said and meant. I love you. They were quite hopeless. He said it as he might have said, I have cancer. His fairy story.