A lawyer I once knew told me of a strange case, a suffragette who had never married. After her death, he opened her trunk and discovered 50 wedding gowns.

A girl once came to my beery flat in Kensal Green, opened the blinds and cooked me breakfast. I married her.

I would never write realistic prose. I don't like people who try to write in a poetic style, but in the course of their book abandon it for realism, and weave back and forth like drunkards between the surreal and the real.

My father was a painter and he taught art. He once said to me, 'I never knew an Indian child who could not draw.'

I opened the trunk in the back of the van and pulled the little girl out and then I took her away from the car and stood with her.

Onassis told me. He begged me to come to the wedding.