A story, to me, has a particular sprite, like the angel of the spirit of that story - and it's my job to attend to what it wants to do.

If we all gave all our goods to the poor, the church would fall apart. If we all hated our father and mother, as Jesus told us to, there'd be an end of the church's emphasis on the family as being the one important thing holding the whole society together. There are all sorts of ways in which the church's teachings contradict directly what Jesus says in the Gospel.

My only real claim to anyone's attention lies in my writing

I got a book token for Christmas and exchanged it for a book called A History of Art, and that book (which I still have-battered and falling to pieces) became more precious to me than any Bible.

She longed for cutlasses, pistols, and brandy; she had to make do with coffee, and pencils, and verbs.

There is another consequence of any belief in a single god, and that is that it is a very good excuse for people to behave very badly.

Her last conscious thought was disgust at life; her senses had lied to her. The world was not made of energy and delight but of foulness, betrayal, and lassitude. Living was hateful, and death was no better, and from end to end of the universe this was the first and last and only truth.