And What Would You Do, ... If

Don't You Know That Every Perfect Life Would Be The End Of Art?

... The Novel Is Called Upon Like No Other Art Form To Incorporate The Intellectual Content Of An Age.

Mathematics Is The Bold Luxury Of Pure Reason, One Of The Few That Remain Today.

We Have Gained Reality And Lost Dream. No More Lounging Under A Tree And Peering At The Sky Between One's Big And Second Toes; There's Work To Be Done. To Be Efficient, One Cannot Be Hungry And Dreamy But Must Eat Steak And Keep Moving.

The Truth Is Not A Crystal That Can Be Slipped Into One's Pocket, But An Endless Current Into Which One Falls Headlong.