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The end-of-summer winds make people restless.

Sebastian Faulks

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Sebastian Faulks
Age: 71
Born: 1953
Born: April 20
Broadcaster
Journalist
Novelist
Parodist
Writer
Sebastian Charles Faulks
Summer
Wind
Ends
Make
People
Summertime
Winds
Restless

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He wrote one more paragraph for his own sake, to see what he had to say.
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Oh, the sweetness of giving in, of full surrender.
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I have written millions of words about contemporary England - in journalism. Why don't I take it as the background for a novel? I may do one day. But the simple answer is that it does not excite the novelistic part of my brain it does not fire it up.
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This is how most people live: alive, but not conscious conscious but not aware aware, but intermittently.
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One thing about London is that when you step out into the night, it swallows you.
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Why take drugs specifically designed to send you insane?
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It was entirely silent and I tried to breathe its peace.
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I don't like being rumbled, I like to be invisible.
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That's what opium does to suffering: makes it of hypothetical interest only.
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The best thing is the combined effect of nicotine with alcohol, greater than the sum of the two parts.
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Gradually the feeling wears off, and I feel swamped again by the inexplicable pettiness of being alive.
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Something had been buried that was not yet dead.
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And sometimes in life, I imagine, good things do happen. Most of the time, it's the opposite, obviously. But I don't think you should rule out the possibility that just occasionally chance might deal you a good card.
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I never for a moment considered killing myself, because it wouldn't have achieved anything.
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Memory is the only thing that binds you to earlier selves for the rest, you become an entirely different being every decade or so, sloughing off the old persona, renewing and moving on. You are not who you were, he told her, nor who you will be.
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I breathed and breathed and did feel some calmness enter in, though it was, as always, shot with a sense of loss. Loss and fear.
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If you have only one life, you cant altogether ignore the question: are you enjoying it?
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. . . she read with undifferentiated glee . . .
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I suppose that each of us may have a great moment in our life, a month, a week a year, when we are most fully what we are meant to be
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My direction? Anywhere. Because one is always nearer by not keeping still.
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