A Day Without An Argument Is Like

So I Suppose I Do Not Know How He Really Looked, And, In Fact, I Suppose I Shall Never Know, Now, For He Was Plainly An Object Created In The Mode Of Fantasy. His Image Was Already Present Somewhere In My Head And I Was Seeking To Discover It In Actuality, Looking At Every Face I Met In Case It Was The Right Face - That Is, The Face Which Corresponded To My Notion Of The Unseen Face Of The One I Should Love, A Face Created Parthenogeneticallyby The Rage To Love Which Consumed Me.

It May Be The First In What I Trust Will Be A Rapidly Growing And Influential Genre--the Novel Designed On Purpose To Be Excludedfrom The Booker Short-list.

The Kind Of Power Mothers Have Is Enormous.

Fine Art, That Exists For Itself Alone, Is Art In A Final State Of Impotence. If Nobody, Including The Artist, Acknowledges Art As A Means Of Knowing The World, Then Art Is Relegated To A Kind Of Rumpus Room Of The Mind And The Irresponsibility Of The Artist And The Irrelevance Of Art To Actual Living Becomes Part And Parcel Of The Practice Of Art.

Aeneas Carried His Aged Father On His Back From The Ruins Of Troy And So Do We All, Whether We Like It Or Not, Perhaps Even If We Have Never Known Them.