Real Misery Cuts Off All Paths To

Art Is Not Cozy And It Is Not Mocked. Art Tells The Only Truth That Ultimately Matters. It Is The Light By Which Human Things Can Be Mended. And After Art There Is, Let Me Assure You All, Nothing.

Nothing Is More Beautifully And Acceptably Self-assertive Than Good Singing.

Art Is Brief. (not In A Temporal Sense.) [...] Words Are For Concealment. Art Is Concealment.

We Need A Moral Philosophy Which Can Speak Significantly Of Freud And Marx And Out Of Which Aesthetic And Political Views Can Be Generated. We Need A Moral Philosophy In Which The Concept Of Love, So Rarely Mentioned Now, Can Once Again Be Made Central.

Eating Reveals The Characteristic Grossness Of The Human Race And Also The In-built Failure Of Its Satisfactions. We Arrive Eager, We Stuff Ourselves And We Go Away Depressed And Disappointed And Probably Feeling A Bit Queasy Into The Bargain. It's An Image Of The Déçu In Human Existence. A Greedy Start And A Stupefied Finish. Waiters, Who Are Constantly Observing This Cycle, Must Be The Most Disillusioned Of Men.