Melancholy And Remorse Forms The Deep Leaden

In The Dream Of Approaching Forty I Saw Myself As About To Die And Realized That I Was No Longer Myself, But A Creature Inhabited Entirely By Parasites, As A Caterpillar Is Occupied By The Grubs Of The Ichneumon Fly. Gin, Whisky, Sloth, Fear, Guilt, Tobacco, Had Made Themselves My Inquilines; Alcohol Sloshed About Within, While Tendrils Of Melon And Vine Grew Out Of Ears And Nostrils; My Mind Was A Worn Gramophone Record, My True Self Was Such A Ruin As To Seem Non-existent, And All This Had Happened In The Last Three Years.

Carelessness Is Not Fatal To Journalism, Nor Are Cliches, For The Eye Rests Lightly On Them. But What Is Intended To Be Read Once Can Seldom Be Read More Than Once; A Journalist Has To Accept The Fact That His Work, By Its Very Todayness, Is Excluded From Any Share In Tomorrow.

Industrial Society Seems Likely To Be Entering A Period Of Severe Stress, Due In Part To Problems Of Human Behavior And In Part To Economic And Environmental Problems

The River Of Truth Is Always Splitting Up Into Arms That Reunite. Islanded Between Them, The Inhabitants Argue For A Lifetime As To Which Is The Mainstream.

In The Sex War, Thoughtlessness Is The Weapon Of The Male, Vindictiveness Of The Female.