Language is an archaeological vehicle... the language we speak is a whole palimpsest of human effort and history.

But when I don't smoke I scarcely feel as if I'm living. I don't feel as if I'm living unless I'm killing myself.

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

My generation was somewhat between things, neither free nor much supported by whatever held us in.

I'd always assumed I was the central character in my own story, but now it occured to me I might in fact be only a minor character in someone else's.

I'll never retire. They'll have to take my computer out of my cold, dead hands. I'm addicted to writing. I feel physically unwell if I'm not doing it.

Is there an existence that is only mine?