It Is One Of The Paradoxes Of

Sometimes It Seems That We Might Have Been Happier If We Had Once Had An Aristocracy To Blame Everything On.

A Book Is Meant Not Only To Be Read, But To Haunt You, To Importune You Like A Lover Or A Parent, To Be In Your Teeth Like A Piece Of Gristle.

To Choose A Writer For A Friend Is Like Palling Around With Your Cardiologist, Who Might Be Musing As You Talk To Him That You Are A Sinking Man. A Writer's Love For Another Writer Is Never Quite Free Of Malice. He May Enjoy Discussing Your Failures Even More Than You Do. He Probably Sees You As Tragic, Like His Characters - Or Unworthy Of Tragedy, Which Is Worse.

The Contents Of Someone's Bookcase Are Part Of His History, Like An Ancestral Portrait.

Paranoids Are The Only Ones Who Notice Things Anymore.