Solitude Is The Playfield Of Satan.

I Think It Is All A Matter Of Love: The More You Love A Memory, The Stronger And Stranger It Is.

Why Should I Tolerate A Perfect Stranger At The Bedside Of My Mind?

Why Do Those People Guess So Much And Shave So Little, And Are So Disdainful Of Hearing Aids?

Old Birds Like Orlovius Are Wonderfully Easy To Lead By The Beak, Because A Combination Of Decency And Sentimentality Is Exactly Equal To Being A Fool.

It Was An Interesting Thing To Do. Why Did I Write Any Of My Books, After All? For The Sake Of The Pleasure, For The Sake Of The Difficulty. I Have No Social Purpose, No Moral Message; I've No General Ideas To Exploit, I Just Like Composing Riddles With Elegant Solutions.