And perhaps it was also the case that, for all a lifetime's internal struggling, you were finally no more than what others saw you as. That was your nature, whether you liked it or not.

Yes, of course we were pretentious -- what else is youth for?

A pier is a disappointed bridge; yet stare at it for long enough and you can dream it to the other side of the Channel.

That's one of the central problems of history, isn't it, sir? The question of subjective versus objective interpretation, the fact that we need to know the history of the historian in order to understand the version that is being put in front of us.

History is the lies of the victors.

When you are writing fiction your task is to reflect the fullest complications of the world

Start with the notion that yours is the sole responsibility unless there's powerful evidence to the contrary