“Anyone who conceives of writing as an agreeable stroll towards a middle-class life-style will never write anything but crap.”
Derek Raymond“It's wearying, like Caliban buttonholing you in hell and telling you the struggle he's having getting along with himself.”
Derek Raymond, The Crust on Its Uppers“You Englishmen,’ said Herr Wurter. ‘You are all the same. Wherever you are you behave as if you were at home and your word was law.”
Derek Raymond, The Crust on Its Uppers“A quick butchers shows up Old Bill three-handed, also a particularly nasty female grass–-and if looks were acid baths the two she collects from us would reduce her to gristle quicker than Mrs. Durand-Deacon.”
Derek Raymond, The Crust on Its Uppers“...perhaps, when it got utterly dark, the peace of the darkness would become the same as light so that my last experience would become as mysterious and musical as my first, so that in my last darkness there might not be the same need of understanding anything so far away as the world anymore.”
Derek Raymond, He Died With His Eyes Open“Anyone who conceives of writing as an agreeable stroll towards a middle-class life-style will never write anything but crap.”
Derek Raymond, He Died With His Eyes Open“I studied him and realized that madness is the last defence of the mind when it can't hope to reconcile itself with events”
I too was standing between routine and the unknowable.