I like surprises.
From Christopher Hitchens
I'm not a sheep.
The press is still investing itself, it seems to me, in a sort of cynicism. It comes out better for them if they can predict hard times, bogging down, sniping, attrition.
The people who tend to raise antiwar slogans will do so generally when it's American or British interests involved.
I don't have any terrific self-esteem issues but I do sometimes realise I've been too lucky and that I'm over-praised. It makes me nervous. I have this sense of being overrated.
I think I write in a fairly self-confident manner.
In the grip of a neurological disorder, I am fast losing control of words even as my relationship with the world has been reduced to them.
Talking, it seemed to me, was the point of adult existence.
You can be a Polish American, or an Arab American, or a Greek American but you can't be English American. Why not?
All the time, I've felt that life is a wager and that I probably was getting more out of leading a bohemian existence as a writer than I would have if I didn't.
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