I have an instinct for survival, for self-preservation.

Did you know that there is no exact rhyme in the Russian language for the word 'pravda'? Ponder and weigh this insufficiency in your mind. Doesn't that just echo down the canyons of your soul?

Why does the writing make us chase the writer? Why can't we leave well enough alone? Why aren't the books enough?

There is a German word, Sehnsucht, which has no English equivalent; it means 'the longing for something'. It has Romantic and mystical connotations; C.S. Lewis defined it as the 'inconsolable longing' in the human heart for 'we know not what'. It seems rather German to be able to specify the unspecifiable. The longing for something - or, in our case, for someone.

Writers of either gender ought to be able to do the opposite sex-that's one basic test of competence, after all.

I dreamt that I woke up. It's the oldest dream of all, and I've just had it

If these are indeed the spirits of Englishmen and Englishwomen who have passed over into the next world, surely they would know how to form a proper queue?