It's Funny How The Colors Of The

And, My Brothers, It Was Real Satisfaction To Me To Waltz-left Two Three, Right Two Three-and Carve Left Cheeky And Right Cheeky, So That Like Two Curtains Of Blood Seemed To Pour Out At The Same Time, One On Either Side Of His Fat Filthy Oily Snout In The Winter Starlight.

That So Many Writers Have Been Prepared To Accept A Kind Of Martyrdom Is The Best Tribute That Flesh Can Pay To The Living Spirit Of Man As Expressed In His Literature. One Cannot Doubt That The Martyrdom Will Continue To Be Gladly Embraced. To Some Of Us, The Wresting Of Beauty Out Of Language Is The Only Thing In The World That Matters.

Every Dogma Has Its Day.

A Perverse Nature Can Be Stimulated By Anything. Any Book Can Be Used As A Pornographic Instrument, Even A Great Work Of Literature If The Mind That So Uses It Is Off-balance. I Once Found A Small Boy Masturbating In The Presence Of The Victorian Steel-engraving In A Family Bible.

It May Not Be Nice To Be Good, Little 6655321. It May Be Horrible To Be Good. And When I Say That To You I Realize How Self-contradictory That Sounds. I Know I Shall Have Many Sleepless Nights About This. What Does God Want? Does God Want Goodness Or The Choice Of Goodness? Is A Man Who Chooses The Bad Perhaps In Some Way Better Than A Man Who Has The Good Imposed Upon Him? Deep And Hard Questions, Little 6655321.