Time At Length Becomes Justice.

In The Compact Between Novelist And Reader, The Novelist Promises To Lie, And The Reader Promises To Allow It.

What I Felt Then I Feel Now: The Inexorable, Unchanging Interior Hum Of Doubt And Hope.

After A Certain Number Of Years, Our Faces Become Our Biographies.

Godlessness Invariably Produces Vulgarity. Civilization Is The Product Of Belief.

We Are So Placid That The Smallest Tremor Of Objection Is Taken As A Full-scale Revolution.