Men Like Women Who Write. Even Though

You Have To Be Very Fond Of Men. Very, Very Fond. You Have To Be Very Fond Of Them To Love Them. Otherwise They're Simply Unbearable.

We’re In The Vanguard Of A Nameless Battle, A Battle Without Arms Or Bloodshed Or Glory: We’re In The Vanguard Of Waiting.

Paradoxically, The Freedom Of Paris Is Associated With A Persistent Belief That Nothing Ever Changes. Paris, They Say, Is The City That Changes Least. After An Absence Of Twenty Or Thirty Years, One Still Recognizes It.

War Is A Generality, So Are The Inevitabilities Of War, Including Death.

Finding Yourself In A Hole, At The Bottom Of A Hole, In Almost Total Solitude, And Discovering That Only Writing Can Save You. To Be Without The Slightest Subject For A Book, The Slightest Idea For A Book, Is To Find Yourself, Once Again, Before A Book. A Vast Emptiness. A Possible Book. Before Nothing. Before Something Like Living, Naked Writing, Like Something Terrible, Terrible To Overcome.