My Novels Are All Ideas.

On Sunday Morning I Went Out For A While In The Neighbourhood; I Bought Some Raisin Bread. The Day Was Warm But A Little Sad, As Sundays Often Are In Paris, Especially When One Doesn't Believe In God.

I Tend To Think That Good And Evil Exist And That The Quantity In Each Of Us Is Unchangeable. The Moral Character Of People Is Set, Fixed Until Death.

Love Binds, And It Binds Forever. Good Binds While Evil Unravels. Separation Is Another Word For Evil; It Is Also Another Word For Deceit.

In Reality, The Monotheist Texts Preach Neither Peace, Love Nor Tolerance. They Are Texts Of Hate.

Now Abideth Beauty, Truth, And Intensity; But The Greatest Of These Is Intensity.