I am the last of Britain's stately homos.

I don't think I have a tragic demeanor.

Never sweep. After four years the dirt gets no worse.

Decency must be an even more exhausting state to maintain than its opposite. Those who succeed seem to need a stupefying amount of sleep.

In fact I try to spend at least one, if not two days without ever leaving my room. Because if I didn't, when would I recharge my batteries?

To my disappointment I now realized that to know all is not to forgive all. It is to despise everybody.

Our clothes are too much a part of us for most of us ever to be entirely indifferent to their condition: it is as though the fabric were indeed a natural extension of the body, or even of the soul.