Our Own Consciousness Is Incapable Of Having

Discoveries Are Made By Gluttons And Addicts. The Man Who Forgets To Eat And Sleep Has An Appetite For Fact, For Interrelations Among Causes.

And The Good Writer Chooses His Words For Their 'meaning', But That Meaning Is Not A A Set, Cut-off Thing Like The Move Of Knight Or Pawn On A Chess-board. It Comes Up With Roots, With Associations, With How And Where The Word Is Familiarly Used, Or Where It Has Been Used Brilliantly Or Memorably.

Somebody Said That I Am The Last American Living The Tragedy Of Europe.

The Critic Who Doesn't Make A Personal Statement, In Remeasurements He Himself Has Made, Is Merely An Unreliable Critic. He Is Not A Measurer But A Repeater Of Other Men's Results. Krino, To Pick Out For Oneself, To Choose. That's What The Word Means.

Yet The Companions Of The Muses Will Keep Their Collective Nose In My Books And Weary With Historical Data, They Will Turn To My Dance Tune.