Weapons are like money; no one knows the meaning of enough.

More will mean worse.

Every writer hopes or boldly assumes that his life is in some sense exemplary, that the particular will turn out to be universal.

My friendship with the Hitch has always been perfectly cloudless. It is a love whose month is ever May.

I think all writers have a bit of genius in them, and a bit of talent. Genius retreats but talent improves.

When I go back to the core of my childhood, my cousin Lucy seems always to be in the peripheral vision of my memories. She is off to one side, always off to one side, with a book, with a scheme or a project or an enterprise.

Love might have expanded her. But we are not all of us going to get loved. We are not all of us going to get expanded.