In Quoting Others, We Cite Ourselves.

I Can't Think Of Another Writer Who Can Move Me As Surreptitiously As Vian Does

Of All Our Feelings The Only One Which Really Doesn't Belong To Us Is Hope. Hope Belongs To Life, It's Life Itself Defending Itself. Etcetera.

I Have Never Described This To You Before, Not So Much, I Don't Think, From Lack Of Truthfulness As That, Just Naturally, One Is Not Going To Explain To People At Large That From Time To Time One Vomits Up A Small Rabbit.

Memory Is A Mirror That Scandalously Lies.

[heaven Is] That Moment In Which Something Attains Its Maximum Depth, Its Maximum Reach, Its Maximum Sense, And Becomes Completely Uninteresting.