No novel has ever changed anything, as far as I can see.

When we read, we are doing more than delectating words on a page stories, characters, images, notions. We are communing with the mind of the author.

Bullets cannot be recalled. They cannot be uninvented. But they can be taken out of the gun.

Mere fact has no chance of being formally perfect. It will get in the way, it will be all elbows.

I think a lot of people who read fiction are interested in subtlety. But they wouldn't like my stuff. It's a bit too violent for many tastes.

So if you ever felt something behind you, when you weren't even one, like welcome heat, like a bulb, like a sun, trying to shine right across the universe - it was me. Always me. It was me. It was me.

Time, the human dimension, which makes us everything we are.