There Is No Beyond, There Is Only

The Bottomless Bitter Misery Of Childhood: How Little Even Now It Is Understood. Probably No Adult Misery Can Be Compared With A Child's Despair.

Art Is A Kind Of Artificial Memory And The Pain Which Attends All Serious Art Is A Sense Of That Factitiousness.

How Rarely Can Happiness Be Really Innocent And Not Triumphant, Not An Insult To The Deprived.

Anything That Consoles Is Fake.

The Bicycle Is The Most Civilized Conveyance Known To Man.