In the finest critics one hears the full cry of the human. They tell one why it matters to read.

What matters in literature in the end is surely the idiosyncratic, the individual, the flavor or the color of a particular human suffering.

I don't read the critics.

My mom used to tell me, 'If you read 50 books, I'll get you a motorbike.'

We read deeply for varied reasons, most of them familiar: that we cannot know enough people profoundly enough; that we need to know ourselves better; that we require knowledge, not just of self and others, but of the way things are.

You've got to put this in context, ... I think they (the critics) would be more worried if the euro had gone up 12 percent instead of fallen 12 percent (from its launch level). We've got everyone trying to manipulate a weaker currency, but when you've actually got one, it's criticized.