Probably Human Cruelty Is Fixed And Eternal.

The Air Itself Was Ebony, Like The Denial, The Refutation, Of The Idea Of Light.

No Novel Has Ever Changed Anything, As Far As I Can See.

Weapons Are Like Money; No One Knows The Meaning Of Enough.

There Isn't What My Father Called The Cruising Hostility Of The English Press - Where They're Looking Around For Something To Attack. You Don't Feel That There's A Great Reservoir Of Resentment In The Press As You Do In England.

It's Without Doubt My Main Subject. The Way Masculinity Can Go Wrong. And I'm Something Of A Gynocrat In A Utopian Kind Of Way.