Because I work quite slowly, I have to keep myself interested over a long research and writing period. So I can't see myself writing about modern middle-class Londoners anytime soon.

Clearly the secret of happiness...is a variation on the general principle of banging your head against a wall, and then stopping.

I despise this weakness in myself - this endless one-sided conversation that takes the place of action.

...it just goes to show you can't leave anything behind. You bring it all with you, whether you want to or not.

I definitely do feel a pull toward people and places that are far from my own life.

Just because we think of wolves (or the wilderness, or another race) as wild and fierce, doesn't mean there isn't another side to them.

I don't think I could write about someone I didn't feel some sympathy for.

I don't use real people for inspiration.

If writers stuck to firsthand experience, novels would be pretty limited.

I suppose the short chapters and differing narrative points of view are quite "cinematic" devices, which came very naturally to me.

Initially I only decided to try and write a novel because I wasn't getting enough screenwriting work. It wasn't a long-held ambition, and certainly the idea came first.

You crave chaos. You're happiest when the world is in an uproar. You thrive on madness. Even when your magic is at its best when it's the catalyst to confusion. You still can't admit this?

I always find it fascinating to ask people, why they've chosen to live their life as an artist? Why be an actor, a singer, an author, a filmmaker? I've heard such inspiring answers to that question.

Survival can be summed up in three words - never give up. That's the heart of it really. Just keep trying.

I couldn't be more proud of my work as a progressive.

I know a lot about Jewish comedians.

I think the deepest thing is that many fiction writers tell stories but are not elegant writers. But, we're not writing journalism when we're making literature.

I don't think anything can touch the expressive range of the guitar.

How rare to stare into the face of death... Something I never intend to do again.

Dark clouds bring waters, when the bright bring none.

Nobody's tried to touch my hair in like, in decades.