Frankly, and let me be blunt, Wikipedia as a readable product is not for us. It's for them. It's for that girl in Africa who can save the lives of hundreds of thousands of people around her, but only if she's empowered with the knowledge to do so.
Reading keeps you from going ga-ga.
But you want to know about the influence of books on my life, and as I've said, there was only one. Seneca. . . Maybe that sounds dull, but the letters aren't - they're witty. I think you learn more if you're laughing at the same time.
I hope, too, that my book will illuminate my belief that love of art - be it poetry, storytelling, painting, sculpture, or music - enables people to transcend any barrier man has yet devised.
When I got up this morning the sea was full of sun pennies - and now it all seems to be covered in lemon scrim. Writers ought to live far inland or next to the city dump, if they are ever to get any work one. Or perhaps they need to be stronger-minded than I am.
Do you arrange your books alphabetically? (I hope not. )
What on earth did you say to Isola? She stopped in on her way to pick up Pride and Prejudice and to berate me for never telling her about Elizabeth Bennet and Mr. Darcy. Why hadn't she known there were better love stories around? Stories not riddled with ill-adjusted men, anguish, death and graveyards!
I know. So, I was angry with you. I didn't know why. I was angry with the world. I did know why. I hated all my therapists for being useless. I was this little ball of self-destructive fury, and none of them could do anything but tell me that I was a little ball of self-destructive fury. [. . . ] I knew I was angry. Tell me what to do with that anger, please.
Whatever happened in the past doesn't really matter anymore to us right now.
Happiness is the cessation of suffering.
It's a very weird thing to know where you want to be in life and all of a sudden to actually have taken some real steps is a very strange feeling. I've really done something that I'm proud of.