The only proper suit-and-tie job I've had in my life was the two years in the late 1980s when I ran a small corporate publishing company. I even had a Ford Sierra!

Once the working classes were in chains, now they're in chain restaurants.

What more chilling indictment of the modern world is there than this: that the condition of the smartphone user is that of a dumb animal. Moooo!

A short story is a shard, a sliver, a vignette. It's a biopsy on the human condition but it doesn't have this capacity to think autonomously for itself.

I'm going to end up like one of those old weirdos who lives in a network of tunnels burrowed through trash - yet I do not fear this.

It is not that sport, over-indulged in, coarsens the mind; it is that it dulls it.

I think of writing as a sculptural medium. You are not building things. You are removing things, chipping away at language to reveal a living form.