One Always Writes Comedy At The Moment

The Writer Is All Alone.

In Our Island Myth This Was The Prescribed End Of Marriages Like Mine: The Wife Goes Off With Someone From The Cercle Sportif, Outside Whose Gates At Night The Willingly Betrayed Husband Waits In His Motorcar. The Circumstances Were Slightly.

I Will Say I Am The Sum Of My Books.

I Often Wonder What Would Have Happened To Me If I Hadn't Made That Decision. I Suppose I Would Have Sunk. I Suppose I Would Have Found Some Kind Of Hole And Tried To Hide Or Pass. After All, We Make Ourselves According To The Ideas We Have Of Our Possibilities. I Would Have Hidden In My Hole And Been Crippled By My Sentimentality, Doing What I Was Doing, And Doing It Well, But Always Looking For The Wailing Wall. And I Would Never Have Seen The World As The Rich Place That It Is. You Wouldn't Have Seen Me Here In Africa, Doing What I Do.

I Went To India And Met Some People Who Had Been Involved In This Guerrilla Business, Middle-class People Who Were Rather Vain And Foolish. There Was No Revolutionary Grandeur To It. Nothing.