I'm A Hopeless 19th-century Romantic.

When I Finish A Sentence, After Much Labor, It's Finished. A Certain Point Comes At Which You Can't Do Any More Work On It Because You Know It Will Kill The Sentence.

I Live In Dublin, God Knows Why. There Are Greatly More Congenial Places I Could Have Settled In - Italy, France, Manhattan - But I Like The Climate Here, And Irish Light Seems To Be Essential For Me And For My Writing.

Ian Mcewan Is A Very Good Writer; The First Half Of Atonement Alone Would Ensure Him A Lasting Place In English Letters.

You Will Remember This When All Else Fades, This Moment, Here, Together, By This Well. There Will Be Certain Days, And Certain Nights, You’ll Feel My Presence Near You, Hear My Voice. You’ll Think You Have Imagined It And Yet, Inside You, You Will Catch An Answering Cry. On April Evenings, When The Rain Has Ceased, Your Heart Will Shake, You’ll Weep For Nothing, Pine For What’s Not There. For You, This Life Will Never Be Enough, There Will Forever Be An Emptiness, Where Once The God Was All In All In You.

Where I Went, No One Could Follow. Yet Someone Managed To Hold My Hand.