Why me?' I ask God. God says nothing. I laugh and the stars watch. It's good to be alive.

They say that war is death's best friend, but I must offer you a different point of view on that one. To me, war is like the new boss who expects the impossible. He stands over your shoulder repeating one thin, incessantly: 'Get it done, get it done.' So you work harder. You get the job done. The boss, however, does not thank you. He asks for more.

I am hunted by humans.

Please, trust me, I most definitely can be cheerful. I can be amiable. Agreeable. Affable. And that's only the A's. Just don't ask me to be nice. Nice has nothing to do with me.

I had to decide what I was going to do, and what I was going to be. I was standing there, waiting for someone to do something , till I realised the person I was waiting for was myself.

That's typically what writers do; we just sit around complaining most of the time. And the better things are going, the more they complain.

He watched them grow, until eventually, great forests of words had risen throughout Germany.... It was a nation of farmed thoughts.