If The Novel Is Dying, I See

Sadistic Literature Is Not Only Inhumane. It Is Anti-human.

The Older I Grow The More Sharply I Mistrust Words. So Few Of Them Have Any Meaning Left. It Is Impossible To Write One Sentence In Which Every Word Has The Bareness And Hardness Of Bones, The Reality Of The Skeleton.

Jealousy, The Most Hideous Emotion Any Human Being Ever Suffers, Has Nothing To Do With The Mind. Or Not At First.

A Minor Symptom Of Wars Is The Cancerous Growth Of Committees.

To Grow Old Is To Have Taken Away, One By One, All Gifts Of Life, The Food And Wine, The Music And The Company. ... The Gods Unloose, One By One, The Mortal Fingers That Cling To The Edge Of The Table.