Time's arrow, we are told, is a one-way thing. . . Memory's arrow, like the needle of a compass too close to a lodestone, spins in all directions.

More and more I'm aware that the permutations are not unlimited.

Is there an existence that is only mine?

Nothing to be done really about animals. Anything you do looks foolish. The answer isn't in us. It's almost as if were put here on earth to show how silly they aren't.

When I write a book, I don't have a plan or an outline. The characters move the action, and the action develops the characters. When I write a book, I become an actor, really, taking the role of the person who is speaking or acting at the time, and so their reactions to whatever they see are my reactions.

When you suffer an attack of nerves you're being attacked by the nervous system. What chance has a man got against a system?.

After all, when you come right down to it, how many people speak the same language even when they speak the same language?