The Great Is Seldom A Deterrent To

Sex Can No Longer Be The Germ, The Seed Of Fiction. Sex Is An Episode, Most Properly Conveyed In An Episodic Manner, Quickly, Often Ironically. It Is A Bursting Forth Of Only One Of The Cells In The Body Of The Omnipotent I, The One Who Hopes By Concentration Of Tone And Voice To Utter The Sound Of Reality.

Sex, Without Society As Its Landscape, Has Never Been Of Much Interest To Fiction.

The Laughter Of Adults Was Always Very Different From The Laughter Of Children. The Former Indicated A Recognition Of The Familiar, But In Children It Came From The Shock Of The New.

Now, My Novel Begins. No, Now I Begin My Novel—and Yet I Cannot Decide Whether To Call Myself I Or She.

Many People Believe Letters The Most Personal And Revealing Form Of Communication. In Them, We Expect To Find The Charmer At His Nap, Slumped, Open-mouthed, Profoundly Himself Without Thought For Appearances. Yet, This Is Not Quite True. Letters Are Above All Useful As A Means Of Expressing The Ideal Self; And No Other Method Of Communication Is Quite So Good For This Purpose. In Conversation, Those Uneasy Eyes Upon You, Those Lips Ready With An Emendation Before You Have Begun To Speak, Are A Powerful Deterrent To Unreality, Even To Hope.