How does one make a movie about decadence these days? Now that we’re allowed to do it, it’s too late.

It’s the old case against symbols: if you get them, they seem obvious and artificial, and if you don’t, you miss the whole point.

As you approach the presidency, no one seems worthy of it, since it wasn’t designed for a human in the first place.

Mr Michener, as timeless as a stack of National Geographics, is the ultimate Summer Writer. Just as one goes back to the cottage in Maine, so one goes back to one’s Michener.

The town is as full as ever of ‘characters,’ all created by each other.

Saloons provide moments of genuine ecstasy – but only if your soul is at peace and the rest of your life bears contemplating. Otherwise, they are palaces of misery.

Of course, history is only a muddle of facts and a fuddle of professors, and anyone who thinks it is one clear voice saying “Arise, sir Knight” deserves a life sentence in Camelot.

The actual Irish weather report is really a recording made in 1922, which no one has had occasion to change. “Scattered showers, periods of sunshine.”

The spiritual life becomes very simple when you’re sick.

Mushy reviews are a breach of faith.