It Is Strange, Is It Not, How

I Don't Find Myself Interesting As A Person And The Details I Find Boring, Quite Frankly. You Could Sum It Up In A Few Words Or Sentences Really: Came From Nothing. Self-educated. Luck. Energy. Curiosity. Ambition. That's It. Nothing At All Can Illuminate The Work As Far As I Can Tell.

London Has Always Provided The Landscape For My Imagination. It Becomes A Character - A Living Being - Within Each Of My Books.

I Am In The Pitte, But I Have Gone So Deep That I Can See The Brightness Of The Starres At Noon.

I Enjoyed Reading And Learning At School, And At University I Enjoyed Extending My Reading And Learning. Once I Left Cambridge, I Went To Yale As A Fellow. I Spent Two Years There. After That, George Gale Made Me Literary Editor Of 'the Spectator.

He Stood Beneath The White Tower, And Looked Up At It With That Mournful Expression Which His Face Always Carried In Repose: For One Moment He Thought Of Climbing Up Its Cracked And Broken Stone, And Then From Its Summit Screaming Down At The Silent City As A Child Might Scream At A Chained Animal.