Life Seemed Even More Of A Guessing

Most People, In My Opinion, Steal Much Of What They Are. If They Didn't What Poor Items They Would Be.

The Better You Know Someone, The Less Well You Often See Them (and The Less Well They Can Therefore Be Transferred Into Fiction). They May Be So Close As To Be Out Of Focus, And There Is No Operating Novelist To Dispel The Blur.

Some Of The Freckles I Once Loved Are Now Closer To Liver Spots. But It’s Still The Eyes We Look At, Isn’t It? That’s Where We Found The Other Person, And Find Them Still.

[flaubert] Didn’t Just Hate The Railway As Such; He Hated The Way It Flattered People With The Illusion Of Progress. What Was The Point Of Scientific Advance Without Moral Advance? The Railway Would Merely Permit More People To Move About, Meet And Be Stupid Together.

History Is That Certainty Produced At The Point Where The Imperfections Of Memory Meet The Inadequacies Of Documentation.