I Can't Talk You In Terms Of

A Writer Doesn't Write For His Readers, Does He? Yet He Has To Take Elementary Precautions All The Same, To Make Them Comfortable.

The Subject Of A Novel Is Not The Plot. Who Remembers What Happened To Lucien De Rebempre In The End?

Pain Is Easy To Write. In Pain We're All Happily Individual. But What Can One Write About Happiness?

God Is Love. I Don't Say The Heart Doesn't Feel A Taste Of It, But What A Taste. The Smallest Glass Of Love Mixed With A Pint Pot Of Ditch-water. We Wouldn't Recognize That Love. It Might Even Look Like Hate. It Would Be Enough To Scare Us - God's Love.

I Had Committed Myself: Without Love I'd Have To Go Through The Gestures Of Love.