There Are Many Kinds Of Gods. Therefore

I Am Ignorant And Impotent And Yet, Somehow Or Other, Here I Am, Unhappy, No Doubt, Profoundly Dissatisfied ... In Spite Of Everything I Survive.

Most Of One's Life Is One Prolonged Effort To Prevent Oneself Thinking.

I Like Being Myself. Myself And Nasty.

After Silence, That Which Comes Nearest To Expressing The Inexpressible Is Music.

I Know Quite Well That One Needs Ridiculous, Mad Situations Like That; One Can't Write Really Well About Anything Else. Why Was That Old Fellow Such A Marvelous Propaganda Technician? Because He Had So Many Insane, Excruciating Things To Get Excited About. You've Got To Be Hurt And Upset; Otherwise You Can't Think Of The Really Good, Penetrating, X-rayish Phrases.