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That's what opium does to suffering: makes it of hypothetical interest only.

Sebastian Faulks

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Sebastian Faulks
Age: 71
Born: 1953
Born: April 20
Broadcaster
Journalist
Novelist
Parodist
Writer
Sebastian Charles Faulks
Suffering
Interest
Makes
Doe
Hypothetical
Opium

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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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I don't like being rumbled, I like to be invisible.
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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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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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The function of music is to liberate in the soul those feelings which normally we keep locked up in the heart.
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I don't think you ever understand your life - not till it's finished and probably not then either. The more I live the less I seem to understand.
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If you have only one life, you cant altogether ignore the question: are you enjoying it?
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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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Something had been buried that was not yet dead.
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That sense of happiness just out beyond my reach - I'm not sure I'd grasped that exactly, but I'd got something close to it, contentment maybe, or at least a functioning routine with regular rewards.
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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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But I think if any song can touch the heart, then one should value it.
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It was entirely silent and I tried to breathe its peace.
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One thing about London is that when you step out into the night, it swallows you.
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. . . she read with undifferentiated glee . . .
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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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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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The end-of-summer winds make people restless.
Sebastian Faulks