Her hair, just long enough now to tie back in a knot, had a coppery sheen, a hint of fire in the darkness.

I wanted her body and soul, but body first.

For the writer under Actually Existing Socialism describing sex is a simple matter: he simply does not do it (the describing, I mean, not the sex).

I have found that in fiction one is freer to speak the truth, if only because in fiction the truth is not expected or required. You may easily disguise it, so that it is only...

All writers are insecure, the male ones especially. It’s well known. Why else would they spend so much time on make-believe? They’re only happy in their imaginary worlds, because that’s where they’re in charge –...

…it seemed to Kirsch that the most reliable guide to the mental landscape of a patient was the patient himself. He was better placed to explain his behaviour and his experiences than anyone else. Yet...

Desire is an appetite, quickly sated. Longing is a wound, an opening in the heart or the spirit. Whatever the cause, whatever the duration, it almost always leaves a scar.

Who is the other woman whose photograph I do not have? If my mother was the first in my life, she was the last: my lover and my downfall, my hope and my despair. Her...

We drank our coffee the Russian way. That is to say we had vodka before it and vodka afterwards.

Problems are there to be solved. How dull life would be without them.