The Drinking Of Wine Seems To Me

Name Me Any Liquid — Except Our Own Blood — That Flows More Intimately And Incessantly Through The Labyrinth Of Symbols We Have Conceived To Mark Our Status As Human Beings, From The Rudest Peasant Festival To The Mystery Of The Eucharist.

Insomnia Is A Gross Feeder. It Will Nourish Itself On Any Kind Of Thinking, Including Thinking About Not Thinking.

We Prefer To Think That The Absence Of Inverted Commas Guarantees The Originality Of A Thought, Whereas It May Be Merely That The Utterer Has Forgotten Its Source.

To Read In Bed Is To Draw Around Us Invisible, Noiseless Curtains. Then At Last We Are In A Room Of Our Own And Are Ready To Burrow Back, Back To That Private Life Of The Imagination We All Led As A Child And To Whose Secret Satisfactions So Many Of Us Have Mislaid The Key.

If You Want To Feel At Home, Stay Home.