To Be A Complete Victim May Be

We Must Live By The Light Of Our Own Self-satisfaction, Through That Secret Vital Busy Inwardness Which Is Even More Remarkable Than Our Reason.

We Need A Moral Philosophy Which Can Speak Significantly Of Freud And Marx And Out Of Which Aesthetic And Political Views Can Be Generated. We Need A Moral Philosophy In Which The Concept Of Love, So Rarely Mentioned Now, Can Once Again Be Made Central.

Trains Induce Such Terrible Anxiety. They Image The Possibility Of Total And Irrevocable Failure. They Are Also Dirty, Rackety, Packed With Strangers, An Object Lesson In The Foul Contingency Of Life: The Talkative Fellow-traveller, The Possibility Of Children.

I Live, I Live, With An Absolutely Continuous Sense Of Failure. I Am Always Defeated, Always. Every Book Is The Wreck Of A Perfect Idea. The Years Pass And One Has Only One Life. If One Has A Thing At All One Must Do It And Keep On And On And On Trying To Do It Better.

Another Person's Illness Is Often Harder To Bear Than One's Own.