The Nazis Were Not Right To Hate

I'm Like A Book You Have To Read. A Book Can't Read Itself To You. It Doesn't Even Know What It's About. I Don't Know What I'm About.

No One Ever Hates Without A Cause.

If It’s Going To Be A World With No Time For Sentiment, It’s Not A World That I Want To Live In.

Every Writer Has Certain Subjects That They Write About Again And Again, And . . . Most People's Books Are Just Variations On Certain Themes.

The Talk Of Pale, Burning-eyed Students, Anarchists And Utopians All, Over Tea And Cigarettes In A Locked Room Long Past Midnight, Is Next Morning Translated, With The Literalness Of Utter Innocence, Into The Throwing Of The Bomb, The Shouting Of The Proud Slogan, The Dragging Away Of The Young Dreamer-doer, Still Smiling, To The Dungeon And The Firing Squad.