Often on a wet day I begin counting up; what I've read and what I haven't read. - Virginia Woolf

Let us again pretend that life is a solid substance, shaped like a globe, which we turn about in our fingers. Let us pretend that we can make out a plain and logical story, so that when one matter is despatched — love for instance — we go on, in an orderly manner, to the next.

Writing is like sex. First you do it for love, then you do it for your friends, and then you do it for money.

All the being and the doing, expansive, glittering, vocal, evaporated; and one shrunk, with a sense of solemnity, to being oneself, a wedge-shaped core of darkness, something invisible to others.