Nothing Is Worse Than What We Can

No, Paul, I Couldn't Care Less If You Tell Me Made-up Stories. Our Lies Reveal As Much About Us As Our Truths.' (said To Paul By Elizabeth Costello, The Interloping Novelist-angel-inner Voice).

If I, This Mortal Shell, Am Going To Die, Let Me At Least Live On Through My Creations.

I Know Somewhat Too Much; And From This Knowledge, Once One Has Been Infected, There Seems To Be No Recovering.

In Its Conception The Literature Prize Belongs To Days When A Writer Could Still Be Thought Of As, By Virtue Of His Or Her Occupation, A Sage, Someone With No Institutional Affiliations Who Could Offer An Authoritative Word On Our Times As Well As On Our Moral Life.

Long Visits Don't Make For Good Friends.