To Look At Ourselves From Afar, To

If You’re That Clever You Can Argue Yourself Into Anything.

When You Are Young, You Think That The Old Lament The Deterioration Of Life Because This Makes It Easier For Them To Die Without Regret. When You Are Old, You Become Impatient With The Way In Which The Young Applaud The Most Insignificant Improvements … While Remaining Heedless Of The World’s Barbarism. I Don’t Say Things Have Got Worse; I Merely Say The Young Wouldn’t Notice If They Had. The Old Times Were Good Because Then We Were Young, And Ignorant Of How Ignorant The Young Can Be.

When You Are In Your Twenties, Even If You're Confused And Uncertain About Your Aims And Purposes, You Have A Strong Sense Of What Life Itself Is, And Of What You In Life Are, And Might Become. Later.. Later There Is More Uncertainty, More Overlapping, More Backtracking, More False Memories. Back Then, You Can Remember Your Short Life In Its Entirety. Later, The Memory Becomes A Thing Of Shreds And Patches.

(on Grief) And You Do Come Out Of It, That’s True. After A Year, After Five. But You Don’t Come Out Of It Like A Train Coming Out Of A Tunnel, Bursting Through The Downs Into Sunshine And That Swift, Rattling Descent To The Channel; You Come Out Of It As A Gull Comes Out Of An Oil-slick. You Are Tarred And Feathered For Life.

Very Few Of My Characters Are Based On People I've Known. It Is Too Constricting.