Objectivity Is Just Male Subjectivity.

I'm One Of Those Unlucky People Who Had A Happy Childhood.

As I Said, I Had No Publisher For What A Carve Up! While I Was Writing It, So All We Had To Live Off Was My Wife's Money And Little Bits I Was Picking Up For Journalism.

You Would Go Mad If You Began To Speculate About The Impact Your Novel Might Have While You Were Still Writing It.

We Say, 'shall We Meet For A Drink?', As Though Drinking Were The Main End Of The Appointment, And The Matter Of Company Only Incidental, We Are So Shy About Admitting Our Need For One Another.[...]we Say, 'would You Like To Come For Some Coffee?', As Though It Were Less Frightening To Acknowledge That We Are Heavily Dependent On Mildly Stimulating Drinks, Than To Acknowledge That We Are At All Dependent On The Companionship Of Other People.

Sometimes I Feel That I Am Destined Always To Be Offstage Whenever The Main Action Occurs. That God Has Made Me The Victim Of Some Cosmic Practical Joke, By Assigning Me Little More Than A Walk-on Part In My Own Life. Or Sometimes I Feel That My Role Is Simply To Be A Spectator To Other People's Stories, And Always To Wander Away At The Most Important Moment, Drifiting Into The Kitchen To Make A Cup Of Tea Just As The Denouement Unfolds.