If You Aren't Rich You Should Always

The Novel Can't Compete With Cars, The Movies, Television, And Liquor. A Guy Who's Had A Good Feed And Tanked Up On Good Wine Gives His Old Lady A Kiss After Supper And His Day Is Over. Finished.

The Poetry Of Heroism Appeals Irresistibly To Those Who Don't Go To A War, And Even More To Those Whom The War Is Making Enormously Wealthy. It's Always So.

Maybe I'd Never See Him Again... Maybe He'd Gone For Good... Swallowed Up, Body And Soul, In The Kind Of Stories You Hear About... Ah, It's An Awful Thing... And Being Young Doesn't Help Any... When You Notice For The First Time... The Way You Lose People As You Go Along ... The Buddies You'll Never See Again... Never Again... When You Notice That They've Disappeared Like Dreams... That It's All Over... Finished... That You Too Will Get Lost Someday... A Long Way Off But Inevitably... In The Awful Torrent Of Things And People... Of The Days And Shapes... That Pass... That Never Stop.

With Two Thousand Years Of Christianity Behind Him... A Man Can't See A Regiment Of Soldiers March Past Without Going Off The Deep End. It Starts Off Far Too Many Ideas In His Head.

This Instinctive Repulsion Which Tradespeople Inspire In Men Of Sensitive Feeling Is One Of The Very Rare Consolations For Being So Impoverished Which Are Given To Those Of Us Who Don’t Sell Anything To Anybody.