[Writer, b. 1904, Berkhamsted, Hertfordshire, England, d. 1991, Vevey, Switzerland.]
The less you know the better. You have forgotten memories. What you forget becomes the compost of the imagination. Renounce photography.
One never knows enough about characters in real life to put them into novels. One gets started and then, suddenly, one cannot remember what toothpaste they use; what are their views on interior decoration, and one is stuck utterly. No, major characters emerge; minor ones may be photographed.
A police photograph is like a passport photograph: the intelligence which casts a veil over the crude common shape is never recorded by the cheap lens. No one can deny the contours of the flesh, the shape of nose and mouth, and yet we protest, This isn’t me.