A touch of science, even bogus science, gives an edge to the superstitious tale.

I am under the spell of language, which has ruled me since I was 10.

The wrongs of childhood and upbringing have made a large and obsessional contribution to autobiography and the novel.

I felt the beginning of a passion, hopeless in the long run, but very nourishing, for identifying myself with people who were not my own, and whose lives were governed by ideas alien to mine.

It is exciting and emancipating to believe we are one of nature's latest experiments, but what if the experiment is unsuccessful?

How extraordinary it is that one feels most guilt about the sins one is unable to commit.

All writers - all people - have their stores of private and family legends which lie like a collection of half-forgotten, often violent toys on the floor of memory.