A Correct Answer Is Like An Affectionate

People Had Always Seemed To Gertrude Rather Like The Beasts In Animal Farm : All Equally Detestable, But Some More Equally Detestable Than Others.

Reality Is What We Want It To Be Or What We Do Not Want It To Be, But It Is Not Our Wanting Or Our Not Wanting That Makes It So.

Art Matters Not Merely Because It Is The Most Magnificent Ornament And The Most Nearly Unfailing Occupation Of Our Lives, But Because It Is Life Itself.

From My Mother's Sleep I Fell Into The State, And I Hunched In Its Belly Till My Wet Fur Froze. Six Miles From Earth, Loosed From The Dream Of Life, I Woke To Black Flak And The Nightmare Fighters. When I Died They Washed Me Out Of The Turret With A Hose.

Poetry Is A Bad Medium For Philosophy. Everything In The Philosophical Poem Has To Satisfy Irreconcilable Requirements: For Instance, The Last Demand That We Should Make Of Philosophy (that It Be Interesting) Is The First We Make Of A Poem; The Philosophical Poet Has An Elevated And Methodical, But Forlorn And Absurd Air As He Works Away At His Flying Tank, His Sewing-machine That Also Plays The Piano.