Anyone and everyone taking a writing class knows that the secret of good writing is to cut it back, pare it down, winnow, chop, hack, prune, and trim, remove every superfluous word, compress, compress...
Сойдемся на том, что самыми долговечными являются песни о любви. Песни о работе тоже хороши. Также песни о реках, о родителях, о дорогах. Хорошие песни о детях необычайно редки (да, сложно писать о чу...
Yes, yes, I know all the jokes. What else could I have expected at Highbury? But I went to Chelsea and to Tottenham and to Rangers, and saw the same thing: that the natural state of a football fan is...
What a terrible thing an education was, he thought, if it produced the kind of mind that despised entertainment and the people who valued it. Edith
This is my life, and it's nice to be able to wade in it, immerse your arms in it, touch it.
They're not me, but I wish I was them. Maybe not them, exactly, because they're not so happy either. But I wish I was one of those people, the people who know what to say, the people who can't see the...
The truth will set you free. Either that or it'll get you a punch in the nose.
The difference between sex with David and sex with Stephen is like the difference between science and art. With Stephen it's all empathy and imagination and exploration and the shock of the new, and t...
The annoying thing about reading is that you can never get the job done.
The anger was clearly real, though. It was in there, sloshing around, looking for the nearest hole to escape through.
Some of my favorite songs: 'Only Love Can Break Your Heart' by Neil Young; 'Last Night I Dreamed That Somebody Loved Me' by the Smiths; 'Call Me' by Aretha Franklin; 'I Don't Want to Talk About It' by...
Read anything, as long as you can't wait to pick it up again.
Próbáltam nem gondolni rá. Megtörtént, és kívántam, hogy bárcsak ne történt volna meg, de hát ilyen az élet, nem?
My companions for the afternoon were affable, welcoming middle-aged men in their late thirties and early forties who simply had no conception of the import of the afternoon for the rest of us. To them...
Manchester City striker Mario Balotelli sets his own house on fire, apparently after letting off fireworks in his bathroom. Two days later City beat United 6–1, and after scoring the first goal Balote...
It is the act of reading itself that I miss, the opportunity to retreat further and further from the world until I have found some space, some air that isn't stale, that hasn't been breathed by my fam...
I have made myself more complicated than I really am.
I fell in love with football as I was later to fall in love with women: suddenly, inexplicably, uncritically, giving no thought to the pain or disruption it would bring with it.
I don't think you can call it stalking when it's just phone calls and letters and emails and knocking on the door.
He was a story at least, even if he never became anything else.