I Think In Retrospect That All Those

There Is Something Mysteriously Powerful That Can Happen When Young, Inchoate Minds Come Into Contact With Older And More Worldly Ones In A Spirit Of Intellectual And Creative Endeavour - If I Believed In Progress, I Suppose That's What I'd Call It.

I Don't Think In Terms Of That Bizarre Tautology 'value For Money' In My Literary And Journalistic Work - And Nor Will I In My Academic Role. However, If I Don't Believe I'm Helping My Students Towards A Fuller And More Empowering Relationship With The World, Then I'll Resign.

I Think Of Writing As A Sculptural Medium. You Are Not Building Things. You Are Removing Things, Chipping Away At Language To Reveal A Living Form.

As For Critical Writing About Modernism, Its Moments Of Lucidity Are But Fulgurations Illuminating The Dark And Incomprehensible Landscape Of Its Subject's Unabashed Difficulty.

The Writing Life Is Essentially One Of Solitary Confinement - If You Can't Deal With This, You Needn't Apply.