Could It Ever Be Explained, How Matter

I Was An Intimate Sort Of Child Who Never Spoke Up In Groups. I Preferred Close Friends.

I Couldn't Think About Novels At All. It Seemed The Only Writing That Was Appropriate To That Horrendous Event Was Journalism, Reportage. And, In Fact, I Think The Profession Rose Quite Honorably To The Task. Novelists Require A Slower Turnover, I Mean, In Time.

Who You Get, And How It Works Out - There's So Much Luck Involved, As Well As The Million Branching Consequences Of Your Conscious Choice Of A Mate, That No One And No Amount Of Talking Can Untangle It If It Turns Out Unhappily.

Writing A Novel Resembles A Journey With Only The Sketchiest Of Maps.

Not Everything People Did Could Be In A Correct, Logical Order, Especially When They Were Alone.