She Was Like Marat Only With Nobody

In This Crazy Mirror Of Terror And Art A Pseudo-quotation Made Up Of Obscure Shakespeareanisms (chapter Three) Somehow Produces, Despite Its Lack Of Literal Meaning, The Blurred Diminutive Image Of The Acrobatic Performance That So Gloriously Supplies The Bravura Ending For The Next Chapter.

It Was Love At First Sight, At Last Sight, At Ever And Ever Sight.

To Begin With, Let Us Take The Following Motto...literature Is Love. Now We Can Continue.

A Work Of Art Has No Importance Whatever To Society. It Is Only Important To The Individual, And Only The Individual Reader Is Important To Me. I Don't Give A Damn For The Group, The Community, The Masses, And So Forth.

But In My Arms She Was Always Lolita.