And There Are Loners In Rural Communities

Your Imagination, My Dear Fellow, Is Worth More Than You Imagine.

That You Are Not Already Golden Word In Our Streets Already Memories Your Love Fades Already Whether You Are No Longer To Have Perished.

I Must Confess That I And A Few Others Are Burdened With Heavy Responsibilities Regarding The Future Of Criticism. I Am Certainly, If Not The Inventor, Then At Least One Of The First Systematizers Of An Absurd Critical Practice That, As Soon As It Had Peeked Its Beak Out Of The Nest, Flapping Its New Wet Wings, Took Flight In The Minds Of The Young, Becoming A Wild Ox And Sowing Avant-garde Literature With The Mighty Tomes Of What Might As Well Be Called The Abstract Bear.

I Shall Always Rebel Against Any Attempt To Reduce A Human Being To A Kind Of Mannequin, Whose Deeds And Questions Would Be Comprehensible Like The Deeds And Gestures Of Monarchs Recorded Day After Day In Official Communiques. Six Months Of A Life Cannot Catalogue The Vitality, The Activity Of An Individual; Only Death Stops Development And Then, What Is Important Is The Overall Meaning Of A Life, Not The Details Of That Life, Edifying To Some, Scandalous To Others.

Language Was Not Given To Man: He Seized It.