Scratch A Socialist And You Find A

Love Of Truth, Ordinary Common Truth Recognizable To Everyone, Is The Ruling Passion Of The Novel.

Like Michelangelo And Cellini, Florentines Of Every Station Are Absorbed In Acquiring Real Estate: A Little Apartment That Can Be Rented To Foreigners; A Farm That Will Supply The Owner With Oil, Wine, Fruit, And Flowers For The House.

Bureaucracy, The Rule Of No One, Has Become The Modern Form Of Despotism.

I Suppose Everyone Continues To Be Interested In The Quest For The Self, But What You Feel When You're Older, I Think, Is That - How To Express This - You Really Must Make The Self.

Labor Is Work That Leaves No Trace Behind It When It Is Finished, Or If It Does, As In The Case Of The Tilled Field, This Product Of Human Activity Requires Still More Labor, Incessant, Tireless Labor, To Maintain Its Identity As A 'work' Of Man.