Time Is Not A Road - It

I Must Fight With My Weapons. Not His. Not Selfishness And Brutality And Shame And Resentment.

I Do Not Plan My Fiction Any More Than I Normally Plan Woodland Walks; I Follow The Path That Seems Most Promising At Any Given Point, Not Some Itinerary Decided Before Entry.

That Was The Tragedy. Not That One Man Had The Courage To Be Evil. But That Millions Had Not The Courage To Be Good.

In Some Mysterious Way Woods Have Never Seemed To Me To Be Static Things. In Physical Terms, I Move Through Them; Yet In Metaphysical Ones, They Seem To Move Through Me.

I Don't Think The English Like Me. I Sold A Colossal Best Seller In America, And They Never Really Forgave Me.