A City Like London Was

London Is An Endless Skirmish Between Angles And Emptiness.

I Do, However, Feel Reasonably Strongly The Sense That The Job Of A Piece Of Argumentative Scholarly Non-fiction Is Not The Same As The Job Of A Piece Of Fiction.

I Think There's Something Quite Interesting About The Almost Tragic Quality Of A Lot Of Overwrought Prose, Because It Has A Much More Self-conscious Awareness Of Its Own Failure To Touch The Real.

One Of The Things That I Love So Much About Fantasy And Science Fiction Is That The Weirdness That It Creates Is Always At Its Best Completely Its Own End And Also Metaphorically And Symbolically Laden.

A Sickly Little Smile Grew And Died On His Mouth Like A Fungus.