An Autobiography Is Only 'a Sort Of

I Envied Those Who Could Believe In A God And I Distrusted Them. I Felt They Were Keeping Their Courage Up With A Fable Of The Changeless And The Permanent. Death Was Far More Certain Than God, And With Death There Would Be No Longer The Possibility Of Love Dying.

Hate Is An Automatic Response To Fear, For Fear Humiliates.

He Couldn't Tell That This Was One Of Those Occasions A Man Never Forgets: A Small Cicatrice Had Been Made On The Memory, A Wound That Would Ache Whenever Certain Things Combined - The Taste Of Gin At Mid-day, The Smell Of Flowers Under A Balcony, The Clang Of Corrugated Iron, An Ugly Bird Flopping From Perch To Perch.

The Truth Has Never Been Of Any Real Value To Any Human Being - It Is A Symbol For Mathematicians And Philosophers To Pursue. In Human Relations Kindness And Lies Are Worth A Thousand Truths.

There Was Always Another Side To A Joke, The Side Of The Victim.