For What Is Liberty But The Unhampered

When I Write After Dark The Shades Of Evening Scatter Their Purple Through My Prose.

No-one Was Ever Made Wretched In A Brothel.

The True Function Of A Writer Is To Produce A Masterpiece And No Other Task Is Of Any Consequence.

A Mutually Fulfilled Sexual Union Between Two People Is The Rarest Sensation Which Life Can Provide. But It Is Not Quite Real. It Stops When The Telephone Rings. Such A Passion Can Be Kept At Its Early Strength Only By Adding To It Either More And More Unhappiness (jealousy, Separation, Doubt, Renunciation), Or More And More Artificiality (drink, Technique, Stage-illusions). Whoever Has Missed This Has Never Lived, Who Lives For It Alone Is But Partly Alive.

In A Perfect Union The Man And Woman Are Like A Strung Bow. Who Is To Say Whether The String Bends The Bow, Or The Bow Tightens The String?