In the broad spectrum of the arts, two worlds rarely overlap - the literary world and the world of rock music.
I have this lock of hair that keeps falling across my forehead. It drives me mad.
The last thing you know about yourself is your effect.
There's a sense in all my novels that nothing is certain.
It's amazing how sudden the effect is - it must be the result of a deep atavistic mating urge buried inside us. A glance and you think: 'Yes, this is the one, this one is right for me.' Every instinct in your body seems to sing in unison.
Film is a medium of clear lines and broad strikes - which can be fantastic - but compared to the subtleties and nuances of a novel, it doesn't even get close.