Life Is Lived Only Once. And The

Although I Knew Enough Freud To Believe That The Sex Urge Was An Important Mainspring Of Life, It Still Seemed To Me That Any Conscious Manifestation Of Sex Was Necessarily Ludicrous. Defecation And Copulation Were Two Activities Which Made A Human Being Totally Ridiculous. At Least The Former Could Be Conducted In Private, But The Latter By Definition Demanded A Partner. I Discovered, Though, That Whenever I Ventured This Opinion, People Took It As A Joke.

Fiction Should Always Steer Clear Of Political Considerations.

That Was What He Wanted, To Be Baked Dry And Hard, To Feel The Vaporous Worries Evaporating One By One, To Know Finally That All The Damp Little Doubts And Hesitations That Covered The Floor Of His Being Were Curling Up And Expiring In The Great Furnace-blast Of The Sun.

He Awoke, Opened His Eye. The Room Meant Very Little To Him; He Was Too Deeply Immersed In The Non-being From Which He Had Just Come. If He Had Not The Energy To Ascertain His Position In Time And Space, He Also Lacked The Desire. ... In Utter Comfort, Utter Relaxation He Lay Absolutely Still For A While, And Then Sank Back Into On The The Light Momentary Sleeps That Occur After A Long, Profound One.

[a]nother Important Difference Between Tourist And Traveler Is That The Former Accepts His Own Civilization Without Question; Not So The Traveler, Who Compares It With The Others, And Rejects Those Elements He Finds Not To His Liking.