Those Who Have Known The Famous Are

We Were Put To Dickens As Children But It Never Quite Took. That Unremitting Humanity Soon Had Me Cheesed Off.

The Majority Of People Perform Well In A Crisis And When The Spotlight Is On Them; It's On The Sunday Afternoons Of This Life, When Nobody Is Looking, That The Spirit Falters.

Authors, She Soon Decided, Were Probably Best Met Within The Pages Of Their Novels, And Were As Much Creatures Of The Reader's Imagination As The Characters In Their Books. Nor Did They Seem To Think One Had Done Them A Kindness By Reading Their Writings. Rather They Had Done One The Kindness By Writing Them.

If You Find Yourself Born In Barnsley And Then Set Your Sights On Being Virginia Woolf It Is Not Going To Be Roses All The Way.

Kafka Could Never Have Written As He Did Had He Lived In A House. His Writing Is That Of Someone Whose Whole Life Was Spent In Apartments, With Lifts, Stairwells, Muffled Voices Behind Closed Doors, And Sounds Through Walls. Put Him In A Nice Detached Villa And He'd Never Have Written A Word.