With Your Great Schemes, You Ruin Our

I’m Not At Peace Anymore. I Just Want Him Like I Used To In The Old Days. I Want To Be Eating Sandwiches With Him. I Want To Be Drinking With Him In A Bar. I’m Tired And I Don’t Want Anymore Pain. I Want Maurice. I Want Ordinary Corrupt Human Love. Dear God, You Know I Want To Want Your Pain, But I Don’t Want It Now. Take It Away For A While And Give It Me Another Time.

That Instinct For Human Character That Is Perhaps Inherent In An Imaginative Writer.

The Subject Of A Novel Is Not The Plot. Who Remembers What Happened To Lucien De Rebempre In The End?

Rocinante Was Of More Value For A True Traveller Than A Jet Plane. Jet Planes Were For Business Men.

He Was Like A Child With Haemophilia: Every Contact Drew Blood.