Father died last year. I don't subscribe to the theory by which we only become truly adult when our parents die; we never become truly adult.

Those who love life do not read. Nor do they go to the movies, actually. No matter what might be said, access to the artistic universe is more or less entirely the preserve of those who are a little fed up with the world.

There is no point in asking me general questions because I am always changing my mind.

If life is an illusion it's a pretty painful one.

it’s true this world our breathing laboured inspires nothing more than obvious disgust a desire to flee without our share and no longer read the headlines we long to return to our ancestral home where our forebears once lived under an angel’s wing we long to find that strange morality which sanctified life to the end we crave something like loyalty like the embrace of mild addictions something that transcends yet contains life we cannot live far from eternity

The great advantage of a novel is you can put in whatever comes into your head - it has the same shape as the human brain.

Why am I popular? I don't know. Is it a mistake? I should think it's a mistake somewhere.