I Think It Is Vanity To Want

But What Is Memory If Not The Language Of Feeling, A Dictionary Of Faces And Days And Smells Which Repeat Themselves Like The Verbs And Adjectives In A Speech, Sneaking In Behind The Thing Itself,into The Pure Present, Making Us Sad Or Teaching Us Vicariously.

The Evolution From Happiness To Habit Is One Of Death's Best Weapons.

What Good Is A Writer If He Can't Destroy Literature? And Us... What Good Are We If We Don't Help As Much As We Can In That Destruction?

After The Age Of 50 We Begin To Die Little By Little In The Deaths Of Others.

The More A Book Is Like An Opium Pipe, The More The Chinaman Reader Is Satisfied With It And Tends To Discuss The Quality Of The Drug Rather Than Its Lethargic Effects.