They Looked Down On Her; And She

I Will Tell You What War Is. War Is A Psychosis Caused By An Inability To See Relationships. Our Relationship With Our Fellowmen. Our Relationship With Our Economic And Historical Situation. And Above All Our Relationship To Nothingness, To Death.

The Absurdly Neurotic Role You And The Rest Of Your Kind Have Always Attributed To Me Erato, The Goddess Muse Of Erotic Poetry Bears No Relation At All To Reality. As A Matter Of Fact, I Was Trained As A Clinical Psychologist. Who Simply Happens To Have Specialized In The Mental Illness That You, In Your Ignorance, Call Literature.

These Last Few Days I've Felt Godless. I've Felt Cleaner, Less Muddled, Less Blind. I Still Believe In A God. But He's So Remote, So Cold, So Mathematical. I See That We Have To Live As If There Is No God. Prayer And Worship And Singing Hymns-all Silly And Useless.

I Do Not Plan My Fiction Any More Than I Normally Plan Woodland Walks; I Follow The Path That Seems Most Promising At Any Given Point, Not Some Itinerary Decided Before Entry.

One Of The Great Fallacies Of Our Time Is That The Nazis Rose To Power Because They Imposed Order On Chaos. Precisely The Opposite Is True