We Are All Serving A Life Sentence

There Is No Pain Equal To That Which Two Lovers Can Inflict On One Another.

When Young We Are Faithful To Individuals, When Older We Grow Loyal To Situations And To Types.

The River Of Truth Is Always Splitting Up Into Arms That Reunite. Islanded Between Them, The Inhabitants Argue For A Lifetime As To Which Is The Mainstream.

Young Writers If They Are To Mature Require A Period Of Between Three And Seven Years In Which To Live Down Their Promise. Promise Is Like The Mediaeval Hangman Who After Settling The Noose, Pushed His Victim Off The Platform And Jumped On His Back, His Weight Acting A Drop While His Jockeying Arms Prevented The Unfortunate From Loosening The Rope. When He Judged Him Dead He Dropped To The Ground.

The Man Who Is Master Of His Passions Is Reason's Slave.