I Get A Warm Feeling Among My

The Whole Idea Of Interviews Is In Itself Absurd - One Cannot Answer Deep Questions About What One's Life Was Like - One Writes Novels About It.

Literature Illuminates Life Only For Those To Whom Books Are A Necessity.

He Fell In Love With Himself At First Sight And It Is A Passion To Which He Has Always Remained Faithful. Selflove Seems So Often Unrequited.

You Have To Be A Product Of The Product.

He Gave Me A Look Of Great Contempt; As I Supposed, For Venturing, Even By Implication, To Draw A Parallel Between A Lack Of Affluence That Might, Literally, Affect My Purchase Of Rare Vintages, And A Figure Of Speech Intended Delicately To Convey His Own Dire Want For The Bare Necessities Of Life. He Remained Silent For Several Seconds, As If Trying To Make Up His Mind Whether He Could Ever Bring Himself To Speak To Me Again; And Then Said Gruffly: 'i've Got To Go Now.'