The suicide does not play the game, does not observe the rules. He leaves the party too soon, and leaves the other guests painfully uncomfortable.

When I'm really involved or getting towards the end of a novel, I can write for up to ten hours a day. At those times, it's as though I'm writing a letter to someone I'm desperately in love with.

I read books. Avidly, ardently! As if my life depended upon it.

None of the rest of my life figures here.

Language is the instrument in all cases and can language be trusted?If it were not for language, could we lie?

For obviously the advantage for most writers is that no one sees them. The writer is invisible, which confers power.

Sometimes I read reviews, and without exception I will read critical essays that are sent to me. The critical essays are interesting on their own terms.