It is straightforward — and never mind, for now, about plagues and famines: if God existed, and if he cared for humankind, he would never have given us religion.

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

Insects are what neurosis would sound like, if neurosis could make a noise with its nose.

I think writers are excited by stupidity and bad behavior, generally.

The trouble with life is its amorphousness, its ridiculous fluidity. Look at it: thinly plotted, largely themeless, sentimental and ineluctably trite. The dialogue is poor, or at least violently uneven. The twists are either predictable or sensationalist. And it’s always the same beginning, and the same ending.

Kingsley Amis was a lenient father. His paternal style, in the early years, can best be described as amiably minimalist - in other words, my mother did it all.

Every 10 years you're a different person, and the really great books evolve with you as you get older. They're full of new rewards.