My Books, At Any Rate, Deserved To

No Country Is So Peaceful As The One That Leads Into Death. Life Arches Above One's Head Like A Bridgespan, And Below It Flows The Water, Carries The Boat, Takes It Further.

The Subject Of The Novel Is Reality Liberated From Soul. The Reader In Complete Independence Presented With A Structured Process:let Him Evaluate It, Not The Author. The Façade Of The Novel Cannot Be Other Than Stone Or Steel, Flashing Electrically Or Dark, But Silent.

But Such Is Life, The Silliest Proverbs Prove To Be True, And When A Man Thinks, Now It's All Right, It's Not All Right By A Longshot. Man Proposes, God Disposes, And There's Always That Last Straw To Break The Camel's Back.

In The Course Of Writing One Historical Book Or Another, It Has Happened That I Could Hardly Restrain Myself From Simply Copying Entire Documents. Indeed, I Sometimes Sank Down Among The Documents And Said To Myself, I Can't Improve On These.

Cultivate Your Futurism. I'll Cultivate My Döblinism.