A Spy, Like A Writer,

I Mean, I'm In The Business Of Storytelling, Not Message Making.

It Was Man Who Ended The Cold War In Case You Didn't Notice. It Wasn't Weaponry, Or Technology, Or Armies Or Campaigns. It Was Just Man. Not Even Western Man Either, As It Happened, But Our Sworn Enemy In The East, Who Went Into The Streets, Faced The Bullets And The Batons And Said: We've Had Enough. It Was Their Emperor, Not Ours, Who Had The Nerve To Mount The Rostrum And Declare He Had No Clothes. And The Ideologies Trailed After These Impossible Events Like Condemned Prisoners, As Ideologies Do When They've Had Their Day.

Survival...is An Infinite Capacity For Suspicion.

Coming Home From Very Lonely Places, All Of Us Go A Little Mad: Whether From Great Personal Success, Or Just An All-night Drive, We Are The Sole Survivors Of A World No One Else Has Ever Seen.

You Have No Idea How Humiliating It Was, As A Boy, To Suddenly Have All Your Clothes, Your Toys, Snatched By The Bailiff. I Mean We Were A Middle-class Family, It's Not As If It Was Happening Up And Down The Street. It Made Me Ashamed, I Felt Dirty.