Everybody should be interested in access to primary and secondary education for everybody.
You grow up in America and you’re told from day one, ‘This is the land of opportunity.’ That everybody has an equal chance to make it in this country. And then you look at places like Harlem, and you say, ‘That is absolutely a lie.’
We have to see that we’re a part of each other, and we have to take care of each other. The reason why they have universal health care in Canada and Britain, these other places? Because they believe if one suffers, everybody suffers.
After so many years, I feel more American than anything else, but I’m also Romanian and whatever other oddities of temperament I picked up elsewhere, in Transylvania or France, for instance. These days, everybody is both an exile and a resident – they don’t call it the global village for nothing.
Everybody is somebody, so you don’t have to introduce anybody.
You can read everybody. It’s not even interesting to tell the truth because to some extent it’s false.
I did not want to write one of those sequels that famous first-book authors get into where everybody says, ‘Oh yeah.’
At the heart of ‘The Famished Road’ is a philosophical conundrum – for me, an essential one: what is reality? Everybody’s reality is subjective; it’s conditioned by upbringing, ideas, temperament, religion, what’s happened to you.
All information belongs to everybody all the time. It should be available. It should be accessible to the child, to the woman, to the man, to the old person, to the semiliterate, to the presidents of universities, to everyone. It should be open.
Authority poisons everybody who takes authority on himself.