So I Was Smacked Up On The

A Creative Life Cannot Be Sustained By Approval, Any More Than It Can Be Destroyed By Criticism.

In Truth, Even If They Have An Imperfect Insight Into Their Own Methods, I Still Slightly Mistrust Writers Of Fiction Who Are Assured Literary Critics; It Makes Me Suspect That They Favour The Word Over The World It Should Describe. Such Scribes Fall Victim Too Easily To The Solecism Of Equating Style With Morality.

It Is Not That Sport, Over-indulged In, Coarsens The Mind; It Is That It Dulls It.

If The Seventies Were Bulbous, And The Eighties Sharp, The Nineties Were Nothing But Bogus.

Sometimes The Crowd Is The Madness - At Others It's The Absence Of The Crowd That Is.