All Good Novelists Have Bad Memories.

I Could Have Waited Years, Now That I Knew The End Of The Story. I Was Cold And Wet And Very Happy. I Could Even Look With Charity Towards The Altar And The Figure Dangling There. She Loves Us Both, I Thought, But If There Is To Be A Conflict Between An Image And A Man, I Know Who Will Win. I Could Put My Hand On Her Thigh Or My Mouth On Her Breast; He Was Imprisoned Behind The Altar And Couldn't Move To Plead His Cause.

You Cannot Control What You Love--you Watch It Driving Recklessly Towards The Broken Bridge, The Torn-up Track, The Horror Of Seventy Years Ahead.

For An Artist To Think In Terms Of Success Is Like A Priest Trying To Think In Terms Of Success.

To Comfort Me Is Like The Wrong Memory At The Wrong Place Or Time: If One Is Lonely One Prefers Discomfort.

Politics, War, Marriage, Crime, Adultery. Everything That Exists In The World Has Something To Do With Money.