Perhaps We Are On An

Time Was A Thief, He Stole Your Life Away From You And The Only Way You Could Get It Back Was To Outwit Him And Snatch It Right Back.

She Should Have Done Science, Not Spent All Her Time With Her Head In Novels. Novels Gave You A Completely False Idea About Life, They Told Lies And They Implied There Were Endings When In Reality There Were No Endings, Everything Just Went On And On And On.

Not Being Published Would Be Great. When I Say That To Other Writers They Look At Me As If I'm Totally Insane.

The Past Is A Cupboard Full Of Light And All You Have To Do Is Find The Key That Opens The Door.

I Think About Death A Lot, I Really Do, Because I Can't Believe I Won't Exist. It's The Ego Isn't It? I Feel That I Should Retreat Into A Better Form Of Zen Buddhism Than This Kind Of Ego-dominated Thing. But I Don't Know, I Mean, I Want To Come Back As A Tree But I Suspect That It's Just Not Going To Happen, Is It?