Writers Seem To Me To Be People

People Demand A Lot Of The Justice System And They Demand Things That It Can't Deliver.

And Always Melbourne, Melbourne, Melbourne, Over And Over The Same Photo In Glaring Greens And Reds, Of A Tram, Huffy, Blunderous, Manoeuvring Itself With Pole Akimbo Round The Tight Corner Where Bourke Street Enters Spring.

It's A Terrific Privilege To Be Able To See Into Somebody Else's Life.

I'm Full Of Restlessness. Not Lonely, Exactly - My Head Is Racing With Ideas. But It Is That Old Treacherous Feeling That Real Life Is Happening Somewhere Else, And I'm Left Out.

I Think Some People Wished I'd Kept Myself Out Of The Book. But I Kind Of Insist On It Because I Want The Reader To Share My Engagement With The Material, If You Like, Not Pretend That I'm Doing It Completely Intellectually.