The Unconscious Mind Has A Habit Of

Civilised My Syphilised Yarbles.

But Don't Think That It's A System Or A Culture Or A State Or A Person That Does The Letting Down. It's Our Expectations That Let Us Down. It Begins In The Warmth Of The Womb And The Discovery That It's Cold Outside. But It's Not The Cold's Fault That It's Cold.

The Book I Am Best Known For, Or Only Known For, Is A Novel I Am Prepared To Repudiate: Written A Quarter Of A Century Ago, A Jeu D'esprit Knocked Off For Money In Three Weeks, It Became Known As The Raw Material For A Film Which Seemed To Glorify Sex And Violence. The Film Made It Easy For Readers Of The Book To Misunderstand What It Was About, And The Misunderstanding Will Pursue Me Till I Die. I Should Not Have Written The Book Because Of This Danger Of Misinterpretation.

As We Grow Older, The Memories Of Early Life Brighten, Those Of Maturity And Senescence Grow Dim And Confused.

Any Book Has Behind It All The Other Books That Have Been Written.