Art Is Nothing Without Form.

To Be Simple Is No Small Matter.

One Arrives At Style Only With Atrocious Effort, With Fanatical And Devoted Stubbornness.

But, In Her Life, Nothing Was Going To Happen. Such Was The Will Of God! The Future Was A Dark Corridor, And At The Far End The Door Was Bolted.

I Hate That Which We Have Decided To Call Realism, Even Though I Have Been Made One Of Its High Priests.

Prose Is Like Hair; It Shines With Combing.