There Is No Moral Authority Like That

In A Certain Sense A Writer Is 'selected' By His Subject - His Subject Being The Consciousness Of His Own Era.

Humans, The Only Self-regarding Animals, Blessed Or Cursed With This Torturing Higher Faculty, Have Always Wanted To Know Why.

If I Dreamt This, While Walking, Walking In The London Streets, The Subconscious Of Each And Every Other Life, Past And Present, Brushing Me In Passing, What Makes It Real? Writing It Down.

What A Writer Does Is To Try To Make Sense Of Life. I Think That's What Writing Is, I Think That's What Painting Is. It's Seeking That Thread Of Order And Logic In The Disorder, And The Incredible Waste And Marvelous Profligate Character Of Life. What All Artists Are Trying To Do Is To Make Sense Of Life.

I Have Learned Since That Sometimes The Things We Want Most Are Impossible For Us. You May Long To Come Home, Yet Wander Forever.