For me, the dead remain dead. If I couldn't believe that, I don't think I could go on living.

Work did bestow dignity, status, meaning. Wasn't that why people dreaded unemployment, why some men found retirement so traumatic?

Can we ever break free of the devices and desires of our own hearts? Might not our conscience be telling us what we most want to hear?

Increase your word power. Words are the raw material of our craft.

The weekend break had begun with the usual resentment and had continued with half-repressed ill humour. It was, of course, his fault. He had been more ready to hurt his wife's feelings and deprive his daughter than inconvenience a pub bar full of strangers. He wished there could be one memory of his dead child which wasn't tainted with guilt and regret.

Most of my life I have needed more time to be on my own.

People were excited by violence. What, after all, was the sexual act but a voluntarily endured assault, a momentary death?