Madness Doesn't Happen To Someone Alone. Very

There's Something Rather Wonderful About The Fact That Oxford Is A Very Small City That Contains Most Of The Cultural And Metropolitan Facilities You Could Want, In Terms Of Bookshops, Theatre, Cinema, Conversation. But It's Near Enough To London To Get Here In An Hour, And It's Near Enough To Huge Open Spaces Without Which I Would Go Insane.

It Exasperated Her Sometimes. The Way Men Could Be So Sure Of Themselves. They Put Words Together Like Sheds Or Shelves And You Could Stand On Them They Were So Solid. And Those Feelings Which Overwhelmed You In The Small Hours Turned To Smoke.

And I Know I Can Do This Because I Went To London On My Own, And Because I Solved The Mystery…and I Was Brave And I Wrote A Book And That Means I Can Do Anything.

Most Of My Work Consisted Of Crossing Out. Crossing Out Was The Secret Of All Good Writing.

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.