I Conclude That There Is As Much

The Practice Of Fiction Can Be Dangerous: It Puts Ideas Into The Head Of The World.

Each Man Kills The Thing He Loves.

What Critics Often Ask For Is The Impossible, Though This May Be A Salutary Means Of Extending The Borders Of Art.

A Character, To Be Acceptable As More Than A Chess Piece, Has To Be Ignorant Of The Future, Unsure About The Past, And Not At All Sure Of What He's Supposed To Be Doing.

It Had Been A Wonderful Evening And What I Needed Now, To Give It The Perfect Ending, Was A Little Of The Ludwig Van.