Language fits over experience like a straight-jacket.

I'm not a critic so much of my own writing. People must make up their own minds over that.

Maybe there is a beast… maybe it's only us.

Even if you got rid of paper, you would still have story-tellers. In fact, you had the story-tellers before you had the paper.

We have a disharmony in our natures. We cannot live together without injuring each other.

The candle-buds opened their wide white flowers....Their scent spilled out into the air and took possession of the island.

We're not savages. We're English.