An Object, After All, Is What Makes

I Don't Have Principles. I Have Nerves.

In General, In America, Every Discourse In Literature In 15 Minutes Degenerates Into A Conversation About Ethics, Morality And This And That. The Holocaust And The Consequences Of It. Well, I Find It Terribly Boring, Predictable And Unimportant, Because What Matters About Literature Is Esthetic Achievement.

As Failures Go, Attempting To Recall The Past Is Like Trying To Grasp The Meaning Of Existence. Both Make One Feel Like A Baby Clutching At A Basketball: One's Palms Keep Sliding Off.

In The West You Have Every Opportunity For Civilization To Triumph.

Racism? But Isn't It Only A Form Of Misanthropy?