Culture Is Worth A Little Risk.

A Book Of Great Beauty And Manically Exquisite Insight With A Wild And Deadly Humor . . . The Only American Novelist Who May Conceivably Be Possessed By Genius.

The Sense Of A Long Last Night Over Civilization Is Back Again; It Has Perhaps Not Been Here So Intensely In Thirty Years, Not Since The Nazis Were Prospering, But It Is Coming Back.

When The Wind Carries A Cry Which Is Meaningful To Human Ears, It Is Simpler To Believe The Wind Shares With Us Some Part Of The Emotion Of Being Than That The Mysteries Of A Hurricane's Rising Murmur Reduce To No More Than The Random Collision Of Insensate Molecules.

The Mark Of Mediocrity Is To Look For Precedent.

Tough Guys Don't Dance. You Had Better Believe It.