Honest criticism, I suppose, has its place. But honest writing is infinitely more valuable.

Every time I write a book, I've probably taken five years off my life.

I felt that I could swim for miles, out into the ocean: a desire for freedom, an impulse to move, tugged at me as though it were a thread fastened to my chest. It was an impulse I knew well, and I had learned that it was not the summons from a larger world I used to believe it to be. It was simply a desire to escape from what I had.

I have absolutely no concept of work, except for university. But I like to talk to people a lot about their jobs.

My children are living, thinking human beings. It isn't in my power to regret them, for they belong to themselves.

Human beings have a need, generally, to destroy things. The Freudian principle of civilisation is correct. There's always, always a difference between the family image and the reality.

I think a lot of artists no longer want to participate in or be associated with narrative because of its corruptedness in contemporary culture.