I know you have it in you, Guy," Anne said suddenly at the end of a silence, "the capacity to be terribly happy.

Each book is, in a sense, an argument with myself, and I would write it, whether it is ever published or not.

But there were too many points at which the other self could invade the self he wanted to preserve, and there were too many forms of invasion: certain words, sounds, lights, actions his hands or feet performed, and if he did nothing at all, heard and saw nothing, the shouting of some triumphant inner voice that shocked him and cowed him.

The kiss became the narrowed center of the still point of the turning world, so that even the park was turning in comparison to the still peace at their lips.

In view of the fact that I surround myself with numbskulls now, I shall die among numbskulls, and on my deathbed shall be surrounded by numbskulls who will not understand what I am saying ... Whom am I sleeping with these days ? Franz Kafka.

I didn't hang around films. I don't know if I'd ever seen Hitchcock's The Lady Vanishes.

I prefer to live in the country where it's quiet. Woody Allen movies there are dubbed into Italian.