A Novelist Is An Elephant, But An

In Science, All Facts, No Matter How Trivial Or Banal, Enjoy Democratic Equality.

For Both Writer And Reader, The Novel Is A Lonely, Physically Inactive Affair. Only The Imagination Races.

The Crucifixion And Other Historical Precedents Notwithstanding, Many Of Us Still Believe That Outstanding Goodness Is A Kind Of Armor, That Virtue, Seen Plain And Bare, Gives Pause To Criminality. But Perhaps It Is The Other Way Around.

The Relation Between Life And Literature - A Final Antimony - Is One Of Mutual Plagiarism.

All Ideas Advanced To Deal With The Florentine Noise Problem, The Florentine Traffic Problem, Are Utopian, And Nobody Believes In Them, Just As Nobody Believed In Machiavelli's Prince, A Utopian Image Of The Ideally Self-interested Despot.