Sometimes limbo is a tolerable place to be stuck.

I know many older writers who were very successful and whose books are now out of print, so you have to go to antiquarian booksellers to buy their fifth or eighth novel or whatever it is.

In the broad spectrum of the arts, two worlds rarely overlap - the literary world and the world of rock music.

Do we change every time we have a new encounter? Are we endlessly mutable? I think these are fascinating questions: it's a rich vein to tap, and I don't think I have exhausted it fully yet.

The last thing we ever learn about ourselves is our effect.

When you experience bereavement at a youngish age, you suddenly realise that life is unjust and unfair, that bad things will happen, and you have to take that on board.

I tend to admire dead people more than the living. All too often, human reality diminishes the glowing reputation.