Dreams Fulfilled Are Imperfect.

The [political] Left Are People With An Imagination And The Right Are Those Without An Imagination.

… That Sour Blend Of Loneliness And Lust For Recognition, Shyness And Extravagance, Deep Insecurity And Self-intoxicated Egomania, That Drives Poets And Writers Out Of Their Rooms To Seek Each Other Out, To Rub Shoulders With One Another, Bully, Joke, Condescend, Feel Each Other, Lay A Hand On A Shoulder Or An Arm Round A Waist, To Chat And Argue With Little Nudges, To Spy A Little, Sniff Out What Is Cooking In Other Pots, Flatter, Disagree, Collude, Be Right, Take Offence, Apologise, Make Amends, Avoid Each Other, And Seek Each Other’s Company Again.

In Many Ways, I Regard Sharon And Arafat As Birds Of A Feather.

I Don't Write Novels About Expeditions To The Planet Mars Because I Haven't Been There And I Don't Know Anything About It.

D.h. Lawrence, I Think, Defined The Difference Between Writing An Article And Writing A Novel Very Well. He Said, In Writing A Novel, The Writer Must Be Able To Identify Emotionally And Intellectually With Two Or Three Or Four Contradicting Perspectives And Give Each Of Them Very A Convincing Voice. It's Like Playing Tennis With Yourself And You Have To Be On Both Sides Of The Yard. You Have To Be On Both Sides, Or All Sides If There Are More Than Two Sides.