It's Death, That's What I'm Suffering From.

Writing Is Like Walking In A Deserted Street. Out Of The Dust In The Street You Make A Mud Pie.

Most Of Us Live In A Condition Of Secrecy: Secret Desires, Secret Appetites, Secret Hatreds And Relationship With The Institutions Which Is Extremely Intense And Uncomfortable. These Are, To Me, A Part Of The Ordinary Human Condition. So I Don't Think I'm Writing About Abnormal Things. ... Artists, In My Experience, Have Very Little Center. They Fake. They Are Not The Real Thing. They Are Spies. I Am No Exception.

People Like You Should Be Stopped, Mr. Woodrow,' She Mused Aloud, With A Puzzled Shake Of Her Wise Head. 'you Think You're Solving The World's Problems But Actually You're The Problem.

It's Part Of A Writer's Profession, As It's Part Of A Spy's Profession, To Prey On The Community To Which He's Attached, To Take Away Information - Often In Secret - And To Translate That Into Intelligence For His Masters, Whether It's His Readership Or His Spy Masters. And I Think That Both Professions Are Perhaps Rather Lonely.

I Think I'm In The Same Mood As Ever, But In Some Ways More Mature. I Guess You Could Say That, At 65, When You've Seen The World Shape Up As I Have, There Are Only Two Things You Can Do: Laugh Or Kill Yourself.