Lord, If There Is A Heartache Vienna

... I Used Words Without Precautions. I Wanted To Disappear Into Them, I Fled Into The Bovaryism Of The Writer Trying To Create An Effect.

Speaking The Truth, Once You Have Started It, Is Too Exhilarating To Draw Back.

Not Literature Alone, But Society Itself Is Wormed And Rotten When Language Ceases To Be Respected Not Merely By Advertisers And Politicians, But By Persons Of Learning And Authority.

Only One Person In A Thousand Knows The Trick Of Really Living In The Present. Most Of Us Spend Fifty-nine Minutes An Hour Living In The Past, With Regret For Lost Joys Or Shame For Things Badly Done (both Utterly Useless And Weakening) Or In A Future Which We Either Long For Or Dread. . . . There Is Only One Minute In Which You Are Alive, This Minute, Here And Now. The Only Way To Live Is By Accepting Each Minute As An Unrepeatable Miracle. Which Is Exactly What It Is-a Miracle And Unrepeatable.

Language Is Memory And Metaphor.