Not To Like Ice Cream Is To

I Am Afraid I Am One Of Those People Who Continues To Read In The Hope Of Sometime Discovering In A Book A Single—and Singular—piece Of Wisdom So Penetrating, So Soul Stirring, So Utterly Applicable To My Own Life As To Make All The Bad Books I Have Read Seem Well Worth The Countless Hours Spent On Them. My Guess Is That This Wisdom, If It Ever Arrives, Will Do So In The Form Of A Generalization.

We Do Not Choose To Be Born. We Do Not Choose Our Parents, Or The Country Of Our Birth. We Do Not, Most Of Us, Choose To Die; Nor Do We Choose The Time And Conditions Of Our Death. But Within This Realm Of Choicelessnness, We Do Choose How We Live.

I Believe It Was Gayelord Hauser, The Nutritionist, Who Said, 'you Are What You Eat,' But If You Happen To Be An Intellectual, You Are What You Quote.

I Have Myself Always Been Terrified Of Plagiarism - Of Being Accused Of It, That Is. Every Writer Is A Thief, Though Some Of Us Are More Clever Than Others At Disguising Our Robberies. The Reason Writers Are Such Slow Readers Is That We Are Ceaselessly Searching For Things We Can Steal And Then Pass Off As Our Own: A Natty Bit Of Syntax, A Seamless Transition, A Metaphor That Jumps To Its Target Like An Arrow Shot From An Aluminum Crossbow.

In Recompense, Envy May Be The Subtlest - Perhaps I Should Say The Most Insidious - Of The Seven Deadly Sins.