In France, Even Heresy Rapidly Hardens Into

Writers Sometimes Talk As Though They Were The Only Friends Of Civilization. This Is Their Conceit. But They Have Special Powers To Serve -- Or To Corrupt -- Civilization, And Are Obliged To Use Them.

No Form Of Art Repeats Or Imitates Successfully All That Can Be Said By Another; The Writer Conveys His Experience Of Life Along A Channel Of Communication Closed To Painter, Mathematician, Musician, Film-maker.

The Least Stupid Question A Man Asks In His Lifetime Is Not: Is There A God And Is He A God Or A Devil? But: Brother, Why Are You Killing Me?

The Hunger Of The Spirit For Eternity - As Fierce As A Starving Man's For Bread - Is Much Less A Craving To Go On Living Than A Craving For Redemption. Oh, And A Protest Against Absurdity.

Surprise Will Be My Last Emotion, Not Fear.