Every Novel Generates Its Own Climate, When

The Pleasure Of Writing Fiction Is That You Are Always Spotting Some New Approach, An Alternative Way Of Telling A Story And Manipulating Characters; The Novel Is Such A Wonderfully Flexible Form.

People Die, But Money Never Does.

It Seems To Me That Anyone Whose Library Consists Of A Kindle Lying On A Table Is Some Sort Of Bloodless Nerd.

The Days Of Our Lives Vanish Utterly, More Insubstantial Than If They Had Been Invented. Fiction Can Seem More Enduring Than Reality.

And In Another Year Everything Will Be Different Yet Again. It Is Always Like That, And Always Will Be; You Are Forever Standing On The Brink, In A Place Where You Cannot See Ahead; There Is Nothing Of Which To Be Certain Except What Lies Behind. This Should Be Terrifying, But Somehow It Is Not.