And What He Meant Was That Maths

At Teenage Parties He Was Always Wandering Into The Garden, Sitting On A Bench In The Dark . . . Staring Up At The Constellations And Pondering All Those Big Questions About The Existence Of God And The Nature Of Evil And The Mystery Of Death, Questions Which Seemed More Important Than Anything Else In The Would Until A Few Years Passed And Some Real Questions Had Been Dumped Into Your Lap, Like How To Earn A Living, And Why People Fell In And Out Of Love, And How Long You Could Carry On Smoking And Then Give Up Without Getting Lung Cancer.

Show Me The Artist Anywhere Who's Had An Utterly Stable Mental Life, And I'll Buy You Hot Dinners For The Rest Of Your Life.

And Father Said, "christopher, Do You Understand That I Love You?" And I Said "yes," Because Loving Someone Is Helping Them When They Get Into Trouble, And Looking After Them, And Telling Them The Truth, And Father Looks After Me When I Get Into Trouble, Like Coming To The Police Station, And He Looks After Me By Cooking Meals For Me, And He Always Tells Me The Truth, Which Means That He Loves Me.

If Kids Like A Picture Book, They're Going To Read It At Least 50 Times. Read Anything That Often, And Even Minor Imperfections Start To Feel Like Gravel In The Bed.

I Suffer Depression Only In The Sense That I Am A Writer. We Don't Have Proper Jobs To Go To. We Are On Our Own All Day. Show Me A Writer Who Doesn't Get Depressed: Who Has A Completely Stable Mood. They'd Be A Garage Mechanic Or Something.