Self-love Is An Idolatry. Self-hatred Is A

Mothers Born On Relief Have Their Babies On Relief. Nothingness, Truly, Seems To Be The Condition Of These New York People. They Are Nomads Going From One Rooming House To Another, Looking For A Toilet That Functions.

Letters Are Above All Useful As A Means Of Expressing The Ideal Self; And No Other Method Of Communication Is Quite So Good For This Purpose. In Letters We Can Reform Without Practice, Beg Without Humiliation, Snip And Shape Embarrassing Experiences To The Measure Of Our Own Desires.

How Certain Human Beings Are Able To Create Works Of Art Is A Mystery, And Why They Should Wish To Do So, At A Great Cost To Themselves Usually, Is Another Mystery. Works Are Not Created By One's Life; Every Life Is Rich In Material.

The Famous Carry About With Them A Great Weight Of Patriarchal Baggage-the Footnotes Of Their Lives.

Sex, Without Society As Its Landscape, Has Never Been Of Much Interest To Fiction.