A Triptych In Which The

And The Smell Of The Library Was Always The Same - The Musty Odour Of Old Clothes Mixed With The Keener Scent Of Unwashed Bodies, Creating What The Chief Librarian Had Once Described As 'the Steam Of The Social Soup.'

Oh, I Just Tend To Believe In Things When I'm Writing Them. For Instance, When I Was Writing 'doctor Dee,' I Believed In Magic. And When I Wrote 'hawksmoor' I Believed In Psychic Geography. But As Soon As I Type The Last Full Stop, I'm Back To Being A Complete Blank Again.

So Do We Discover, In The World, That Our Worst Fears Are Unfulfilled; Yet We Must Fear, In Order That We May Feel Delight.

I Don't Know If I Have A Voice Of My Own. I Don't See Me Being An Important Person With Something To Say. I Haven't. I've Got Nothing To Say. My Opinion Is Of No Consequence Or Value.

I Believe That The Gods Themselves Are Frightened Of The World Which They Have Fashioned.