Speaking The Truth, Once You Have Started

Nothing Lasts. Not Even A Great Sorrow.

An Animal Is Not Cruel; It Lives Wholly In The Instant Leap On Its Prey, In The Present Taste Of Marrow Or Blood. Cruelty Begins With The Memory, And The Pleasures Of The Memory Are Impure; They Draw Their Strength Along Levels Where No Sun Has Reached.

Fear Is The Deep Motive Of Abstract Art - Fear Of A Repellent Civilization Which Is Dominated By The Power Of Things. ... Who Can Be Surprised If, More Sensitive Than The Others, The Artist Is Terrified By The Power Things Have Acquired Over Us?

Inevitably, The Flood Of Literary Pornography Loosed On Us Is Dulling Our Reactions Of Surprise Or Shock. Its Writers Are Forced To Raise The Ante, To Provide Stronger And Stronger Stimulants. Or Try To Provide Them, Since Both The Manner, The Naming Of Parts And The Few Inexpressive Four-letter Words, And The Matter, Are Narrowly Limited.

An Intelligent Man Or Woman Willing To Make A Career Of Reviewing Fiction Is Hard To Come By ... And The Temporaries Do The Work Cheaply. Moreover, Continuity May Be Got At The Expense Of Intellectual Arthritis; A Reviewer Who Has Been At His Grisly Task For Half A Lifetime May Stiffen Into Prejudices Of Every Sort, And Become Too Anchylosed To Do Better Than Turn His Back To A New Wave When It Rushes Down On Him.