A great friend of mine at the beginning of our friendship (he was himself a poet) said to me very defiantly, 'I have to tell you that I loathe children's books.' And I said to him, 'Well, won't you just read this just for my sake?' And he said grumpily, 'Oh, very well, send it to me.' I did, and I got a letter back saying: 'Why didn't you tell me? Mary Poppins with her cool green core of sex has me enthralled forever.'

A writer is, after all, only half his book. The other half is the reader and from the reader the writer learns.

The silky hush of intimate things, fragrant with my fragrance, steal softly down, so loth to rob me of my last dear concealment.

It is clear from Gurdjieff's writings that hypnotism, mesmerism and various arcane methods of expanding consciousness must have played a large part in the stud…

This book - amber-clear, cool and with a good head - deserves a thoughtful swig even from people who never drink.

Get stewed: Books are a load of crap.

A real book reads us. I have been read by Eliot's poems and by Ulysses and by Remembrance of Things Past and by The Castle for a good many years now, since ear…