My Books, At Any Rate, Deserved To

And If You Ask Again Whether There Is Any Justice In The World, You'll Have To Be Satisfied With The Reply: Not For The Time Being; At Any Rate, Not Up To This Friday.

I Read Like The Flame Reads The Wood.

No Country Is So Peaceful As The One That Leads Into Death. Life Arches Above One's Head Like A Bridgespan, And Below It Flows The Water, Carries The Boat, Takes It Further.

The Subject Of The Novel Is Reality Liberated From Soul. The Reader In Complete Independence Presented With A Structured Process:let Him Evaluate It, Not The Author. The Façade Of The Novel Cannot Be Other Than Stone Or Steel, Flashing Electrically Or Dark, But Silent.

Revolution? Unscrew The Flag-staff, Wrap The Bunting In The Oil Covers, And Put The Thing In The Clothes-chest. Let The Old Lady Bring You Your House-slippers And Untie Your Fiery Red Necktie. You Always Make Revolutions With Your Mugs, Your Republic--nothing But An Industrial Accident.