Martin Amis

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Love is an abstract noun, something nebulous. And yet love turns out to be the only part of us that is solid, as the world turns upside down and the screen goes black

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And meanwhile time goes about its immemorial work of making everyone look and feel like shit

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The universe is a million billion light-years wide, and every inch of it would kill you if you went there. This is the position of the universe with regards to human life

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The first thing that distinguishes a writer is that he is most alive when alone

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I am easily moved to tears and rarely survive a visit to the cinema without shedding them, racked, as I am, by the most perfunctory, meretricious or even callously sentimental attempts at poignancy (something about the exterior of the human face, so vast and palpable, with the eyes and the lips: it is all writ too large for me, too immediate for me.)