I see mysteries and complications wherever I look, and I have never met a steadily logical person.

I daresay I was the worst bed partner in five continents.

Despite official drivel about clean bombs and tactical nuclear weapons, anyone who can read a newspaper or listen to a radio knows that some of us mortals have the power to destroy the human race and man's home on earth. We need not even make war; only by preparing, by playing with our new weapons, we poison the air, the water, the soil of our plants, damage the health of the living, and weaken the chances of the newborn.

If I practised sex, out of moral conviction, that was one thing; but to enjoy it... seemed a defeat.

It is alleged that half a million Spanish men, women and children fled to France after the Franco victory.

the English don't go in for imagination: imagination is considered to be improper if not downright alarmist.

If I were a first rate writer, I wouldn't mind a bit. What does depress me is this: it is so desperately hard and so obsessive and so lonely to write that, in return for all this work, one would like a little self satisfaction. And that is never going to come, for the simple reason that I do not deserve it. I cannot be a good enough writer. You see? I call it grim. But the future looks awfully clear to me.