The Less One Notices Happiness, The Greater

The Novel As We Knew It In The Nineteenth Century Was Killed Off By Proust And Joyce.

War Has Become An Affair Of Machines...and Soldiers Are Little More Than Clever Mechanics.

Yes, One Uses What One Knows, But Autobiography Means Something Else. I Should Never Be Able To Write A Real Autobiography; I Always End By Falsifying And Fictionalizing—i’m A Liar, In Fact. That Means I’m A Novelist, After All. I Write About What I Know.

Dictatorships Are One-way Streets. Democracy Boasts Two-way Traffic.

The Ratio Of Literacy To Illiteracy Is Constant, But Nowadays The Illiterates Can Read And Write.