Love Is Just A System For Getting

If You’re That Clever You Can Argue Yourself Into Anything.

He Thought Of Trying To Explain Something He Had Recently Noticed About Himself: That If Anyone Insulted Him, Or One Of His Friends, He Didn't Really Mind--or Not Much, Anyway. Whereas If Anyone Insulted A Novel, A Story, A Poem That He Loved, Something Visceral And Volcanic Occurred Within Him. He Wasn't Sure What This Might Mean--except Perhaps That He Had Got Life And Art Mixed Up, Back To Front, Upside Down.

He Had A Better Mind And A More Rigorous Temperament Than Me; He Thought Logically, And Then Acted On The Conclusion Of Logical Thought. Whereas Most Of Us, I Suspect, Do The Opposite: We Make An Instinctive Decision, Then Build Up An Infrastructure Of Reasoning To Justify It. And Call The Result Common Sense.

This Is What Those Who Haven’t Crossed The Tropic Of Grief Often Fail To Understand: The Fact That Someone Is Dead May Mean That They Are Not Alive, But Doesn’t Mean That They Do Not Exist.

Do Not Imagine That Art Is Something Which Is Designed To Give Gentle Uplift And Self-confidence . Art Is Not A Brassiere. At Least, Not In The English Sense. But Do Not Forget That Brassiere Is The French Word For Life-jacket.