In Truth, Even If They Have An

Life, It Is True, Can Be Grasped In All Its Confused Futility Merely By Opening One's Eyes And Sitting Passively, A Spectator On The Stands Of History - But To Understand The Social Processes And Conflicts, The Interplay Between Individual And Group, Even The Physicality Of Human Experience, We Have Need Of Small-scale Models.

The British And American Literary Worlds Operate In An Odd Kind Of Symbiosis: Our Critics Think Our Contemporary Novelists Are Not The Stuff Of Greatness Whereas Certain Contemporary Americans Indubitably Are. Their Critics Often Advance The Exact Opposite: British Fiction Is Cool, American Naff.

I Can't Remember Who It Was Who Advocated That You Should March With The Left And Dine With The Right But I've Often Concurred, Taking The View That I Personify The Great Tolerance Of Britain By Consenting To Being Regally Entertained. Besides, There Is A Degree Of Truth In The View That While The Left Are Worthier, The Right Are Wittier.

Sometimes The Crowd Is The Madness - At Others It's The Absence Of The Crowd That Is.

Lust Was A Positive High-tension Cable, Plugged Into My Core, Activating A Near-epileptic Seizure Of Conviction That This Was The One Thing I Had To Do In Life.