A Cat Only Has Itself.

I Went To India And Met Some People Who Had Been Involved In This Guerrilla Business, Middle-class People Who Were Rather Vain And Foolish. There Was No Revolutionary Grandeur To It. Nothing.

Home Is, I Suppose Just A Child's Idea. A House At Night, And A Lamp In The House. A Place To Feel Safe.

The Past Has To Be Seen To Be Dead; Or The Past Will Kill.

Whatever Extra There Is In Me At Any Given Moment Isn't Fully Formed. I Am Hardly Aware Of It; It Awaits The Next Book. It Will - With Luck - Come To Me During The Actual Writing, And It Will Take Me By Surprise

A Businessman Is Someone Who Buys At Ten And Is Happy To Get Out At Twelve. The Other Kind Of Man Buys At Ten, Sees It Rise To Eighteen And Does Nothing. He Is Waiting For It To Rise To Twenty. When It Drops To Two He Waits For It To Get Back To Ten.