In Later Years, Holding Forth To An

Undressing Her Was An Act Of Recklessness, A Kind Of Vandalism, Like Releasing A Zoo Full Of Animals, Or Blowing Up A Dam.

Not Only Would I Never Want To Belong To Any Club That Would Have Me For A Member--if Elected I Would Wear Street Shoes Onto The Squash Court And Set Fire To The Ballroom Curtains.

I Was Surprised That My Wife Thought It Was A Good Idea, Then Again With My Agent, Another Woman, Then My Editor, Another Woman - In Spite Of The Fact That All Three Of Them Reacted Positively I Still Have This Fear.

Poor Little Librarians Of The World, Those Girls, Secretly Lovely, Their Looks Marred Forever By The Cruelty Of A Pair Of Big Dark Eyeglasses!

The Midnight Disease Is A Kind Of Emotional Insomnia; At Ever Conscious Moment Its Victim—even If He Or She Writes At Dawn, Or In The Middle Of The Afternoon—feels Like A Person Lying In A Sweltering Bedroom, With The Window Thrown Open, Looking Up At A Sky Filled With Stars And Airplanes, Listening To The Narrative Of A Rattling Blind, An Ambulance, A Fly Trapped In A Coke Bottle, While All Around Him The Neighbours Soundly Sleep.