Let's pretend that we're human beings and that we're actually alive.
They spend their time looking forward to the past.
Asking a writer what he thinks about criticism is like asking a lamppost what it feels about dogs.
I must be the luckiest man in the world. Not only am I bisexual, I am also Welsh.
Don't clap too hard - it's a very old building.
Here we are, we're alone in the universe, there's no God, it just seems that it all began by something as simple as sunlight striking on a piece of rock. And here we are. We've only got ourselves. Somehow, we've just got to make a go of it. We've only ourselves.