To Be Left Alone Is

The Ideal Reader Of My Novels Is A Lapsed Catholic And Failed Musician, Short-sighted, Colour-blind, Auditorily Biased, Who Has Read The Books That I Have Read.

It Seems Priggish Or Pollyannaish To Deny That My Intention In Writing The Work Was To Titillate The Nastier Propensities Of My Readers. My Own Healthy Inheritance Of Original Sin Comes Out In The Book And I Enjoyed Raping And Ripping By Proxy. It Is The Novelist’s Innate Cowardice That Makes Him Depute To Imaginary Personalities The Sins That He Is Too Cautious To Commit For Himself.

For The Serious Artist Does Not Satisfy Needs

There Was Me, That Is Alex, And My Three Droogs, That Is Pete, Georgie And Dim, Dim Being Really Dim, And We Sat In The Korova Milkbar Making Up Our Rassoodocks What To Do With The Evening.

Each Man Kills The Thing He Loves.