I suppose that writers should, in a way, feel flattered by the censorship laws. They show a primitive fear and dread at the fearful magic of print.

Like childhood, old age is irresponsible, reckless, and foolhardy. Children and old people have everything to gain and nothing much to lose. It's middle-age which is cursed by the desperate need to cling to some finger-hold halfway up the mountain, to conform, not to cause trouble, to behave well.

The only rule I have found to have any validity in writing is not to bore yourself.

No brilliance is needed in the law. Nothing but common sense, and relatively clean finger nails.

The shelf life of the modern hardback writer is somewhere between the milk and the yoghurt.

We don't know much about the human conscience, except that it is soluble in alcohol.

I suppose true sexual equality will come when a general called Anthea is found having an unwise lunch with a young, unreliable model from Spain.