Mechanical Difficulties With Language Are The Outcome

Each Of Us Keeps, Battened Down Inside Himself, A Sort Of Lunatic Giant; Impossible Socially, But Full Scale; And It's The Knockings And Battering We Sometimes Hear In Each Other That Keep Our Banter From Utter Banality.

Art, At Any Rate In A Novel, Must Be Indissolubly Linked With Craft.

Jealousy Is No More Than Feeling Alone Against Smiling Enemies.

Nobody Speaks The Truth When There's Something They Must Have.

I Do Like Italian Graves; They Look So Much More Lived In.