How Flat All Sounds Are

Fictional Characters Are Made Of Words, Not Flesh; They Do Not Have Free Will, They Do Not Exercise Volition. They Are Easily Born, And As Easily Killed Off.

We Think We're Living In The Present, But We're Really Living In The Past.

I Have Never Really Got Used To Being On This Earth. Sometimes I Think Our Presence Here Is Due To A Cosmic Blunder, That We Were Meant For Another Planet Altogether, With Other Arrangements, And Other Laws, And Other, Grimmer Skies. I Try To Imagine It, Our True Place, Off On The Far Side Of The Galaxy, Whirling And Whirling. And The Ones Who Were Meant For Here, Are They Out There, Baffled And Homesick, Like Us? No, They Would Have Become Extinct Long Ago. How Could They Survive, These Gentle Earthlings, In A World That Was Made To Contain Us.

I Have This Fantasy. I'm Walking Past A Bookshop And I Click My Fingers And All My Books Go Blank. So I Can Start Again And Get It Right.

In My Books You Have To Concentrate, But I Work Hard To Make It That, When You Do, The Rewards Are Quite High.