The Usual Criticism Of A Novel About

First One Gets Works Of Art, Then Criticism Of Them, Then Criticism Of The Criticism, And, Finally, A Book On The Literary Situation , A Book Which Tells You All About Writers, Critics, Publishing, Paperbacked Books, The Tendencies Of The (literary) Time, What Sells And How Much, What Writers Wear And Drink And Want, What Their Wives Wear And Drink And Want, And So On.

The Safest Way To Avoid The World Is Through Art; And The Safest Way To Be Linked To The World Is Through Art.

One Of The Most Puzzling Things About A Novel Is That "the Way It Really Was" Half The Time Is, And Half The Time Isn't, The Way It Ought To Be In The Novel.

An Intelligent Man Said That The World Felt Napoleon As A Weight, And That When He Died It Would Give A Great Oof Of Relief. This Is Just As True Of Byron, Or Of Such Byrons Of Their Days As Kipling And Hemingway: After A Generation Or Two The World Is Tired Of Being Their Pedestal, Shakes Them Of With An Oof, And Then - Hoisting Onto Its Back A New World-figure - Feels The Penetrating Satisfaction Of Having Made A Mistake All Its Own.

Early In His Life Mr. [ezra] Pound Met With Strong, Continued, And Unintelligent Opposition. If People Keep Opposing You When You Are Right, You Think Them Fools; And After A Time, Right Or Wrong, You Think Them Fools Simply Because They Oppose You. Similarly, You Write True Things Or Good Things, And End By Thinking Things True Or Good Simply Because You Write Them