Fiction Becomes Visual By Becoming Verbal

The Alcoholic Trance Is Not Just A Haze, As Though The Eyes Were Also Unshaven. It Is Not A Mere Buzzing In The Ears, A Dizzinessor Disturbance Of Balance. One Arrives In The Garden Again, At Nursery Time, When The Gentle Animals Are Fed And In All The World There Are Only Toys.

It Is Discouraging To Leave The Past Behind Only To See It Coming Toward You Like The Thunderstorm Which Drenched You Yesterday.

If You Were A Fully Realized Person-whatever The Hell That Would Be-you Wouldn't Fool Around Writing Books.

Only The Slow Reader Will Notice The Odd Crowd Of Images-flier, Butcher, Seal-which Have Gathered To Comment On The Aims And Activities Of The Speeding Reader, Perhaps Like Gossips At A Wedding.

For The Speedy Reader Paragraphs Become A Country The Eye Flies Over Looking For Landmarks, Reference Points, Airports, Restrooms, Passages Of Sex.