Never To Lie Is To Have No

Style Is The Thing That's Always A Bit Phony, And At The Same Time You Cannot Write Without Style.

One's Sentiments -- Call Them That -- One's Fidelities Are So Instinctive That One Hardly Knows They Exist: Only When They Are Betrayed Or, Worse Still, When One Betrays Them Does One Realize Their Power.

The Most Steady, The Most Self-sufficient Nature Depends, More Than It Knows, On Its Few Chosen Stimuli.

Ghosts Seem Harder To Please Than We Are; It Is As Though They Haunted For Haunting’s Sake -- Much As We Relive, Brood, And Smoulder Over Our Pasts.

Convention Was Our Safeguard: Could One Have Stronger?