The Artist Secretes Nostalgia Around Life.

When I Write After Dark The Shades Of Evening Scatter Their Purple Through My Prose.

Only By Avoiding The Beginning Of Things Can We Escape Their End.

The American Language Is In A State Of Flux Based Upon Survival Of The Unfittest.

The True Index Of A Man's Character Is The Health Of His Wife.

He [george Orwell] Would Not Blow His Nose Without Moralising On Conditions In The Handkerchief Industry.