You Should Have Died When I Killed

People Like You Should Be Stopped, Mr. Woodrow,' She Mused Aloud, With A Puzzled Shake Of Her Wise Head. 'you Think You're Solving The World's Problems But Actually You're The Problem.

I've Never Been Able To Write A Book Without One Very Strong Character In My Rucksack.

Why Did I Desert Labour? Total Bloody Disillusionment. The Party Was A Corpse. It Had No Ideology, It Became Detached, Old, Spineless And Needed To Go.

Home's Where You Go When You Run Out Of Homes.

A Good Writer Is An Expert On Nothing Except Himself. And On That Subject, If He Is Wise, He Holds His Tongue.