It Was Only When I Found Myself

Stories Are Consoling, Fiction Is One Of The Consolation Prizes For Having Lived In The World.

Dying Was Just An Extended Version Of Ash Wednesday.

First You Look For Discipline And Control. You Want To Exercise Your Will, Bend The Language Your Way, Bend The World Your Way. You Want To Control The Flow Of Impulses, Images, Words, Faces, Ideas. But There's A Higher Place, A Secret Aspiration. You Want To Let Go. You Want To Lose Yourself In Language, Become A Carrier Or Messenger.

I've Always Liked Being Relatively Obscure. I Feel That's Where I Belong, That's Where My Work Belongs.

Rushdie Is A Hostage.