I think writing about unhappiness is probably the source of my popularity, if I have any-after all, most people are unhappy, don't you think?

Nothing, like something, happens anywhere.

I like spaghetti because you don’t have to take your eyes off the book to pick about among it, it’s all the same.

Clearly money has something to do with life...

I feel the only thing you can do about life is to preserve it, by art if you’re an artist, by children if you’re not.

I listen to money singing, it’s like looking down from long French windows at a provincial town. The slums, the canal, the churches ornate and mad in the evening sun. It is intensely sad...

Dear, I can’t write, it’s all a fantasy: a kind of circling obsession.

You can’t put off being young until you retire.

I wouldn’t mind seeing China if I could come back the same day.

Only in books the flat and final happens, Only in dreams we meet and interlock...