Only One Novel Is A Novel: That

Beethoven For Listening; Liszt, Chopin, And Beethoven For Playing As Well As Bach And Prokofiev And So On. If I Kept Going, This List Would Spiral. It's As Wide As Literature; In Fact, It Is Probably Wider.

We Just Got To Go On, That's All. That's What Grownups Would Do.

I Will Tell You What Man Is. He Is A Freak, An Ejected Foetus Robbed Of His Natural Development, Thrown Out Into The World With A Naked Covering Of Parchment, With Too Little Room For His Teeth And A Soft Bulging Skull Like A Bubble. But Nature Stirs A Pudding There.

It Wasn't Until I Was 37 That I Grasped The Great Truth That You've Got To Write Your Own Books And Nobody Else's, And Then Everything Followed From There.

I Have A Confession To Make. The Love Affair Of My Life Has Been With The Greek Language. I Have Now Reached The Age When It Has Occurred To Me That I May Have Read Some Books For The Last Time. I Suddenly Thought That There Are Books I Cannot Bear Not To Read Again Before I Die. One That Stands Out A Mile Is Homer's Iliad.