150 years ago in [Charles] Dickens's time there was at least a sense of craft. So some of the things people had inside of them, they had the possibility of expressing in the making of things - even in a daily way with their clothes or their food. People made a good deal of both themselves. Now our daily lives are almost all consumption. Craft plays a tiny role.

English, as a subject, never really got over its upstart nature. It tries to bulk itself up with hopeless jargon and specious complexity, tries to imitate subjects it can never be.

You don't come to live here unless the delusion of a reality shaped around your own desires isn't a strong aspect of your personality. A reality shaped around your own desires - there is something sociopathic in that ambition.

I cannot believe homosexuality is that much fun. Heterosexuality certainly is not.

You're a library of me.

I don't ask myself what did I live for, said Carlene strongly. That is a man's question. I ask whom did I live for.

Every moment happens twice: inside and outside, and they are two different histories.