My grief is that the publishing world, the book writing world is an extraordinary shoddy, dirty, dingy world.

I came to London. It had become the center of my world and I had worked hard to come to it. And I was lost.

The world is always in movement.

What I felt was, if you spend your life just writing fiction, you are going to falsify your material. And the fictional form was going to force you to do things with the material, to dramatize it in a certain way. I thought nonfiction gave one a chance to explore the world, the other world, the world that one didn't know fully.

I read many things. I read to fill in my knowledge of the world.

The world outside existed in a kind of darkness; and we inquired about nothing.