What One Wants To Do With Stories

I Was Struck By The Way In Which Meanings Are Historically Attached To Words: It Is So Accidental, So Remote, So Twisted. A Word Is Like A Schoolgirl's Room--a Complete Mess--so The Great Thing Is To Make Out A Way Of Seeing It All As Ordered, As Right, As Inferred And Following.

I Usually Have Poor To Absent Relations With Editors Because They Have A Habit Of Desiring Changes And I Resist Changes.

Words Are The Supreme Objects. They Are Minded Things.

One May Decide That The Nipple Most Nearly Resembles A Newly Ripened Raspberry (never, Be It Noted, The Plonk Of Water On A Pond At The Commencement Of A Drizzle, A Simple Bladder Nozzle Built On The Suction Principal Gum Bubble, Mole, Or Birth Ward, Bumpy Metal Button, Or The Painful Red Eruption Of A Swelling), But Does One Care To See His Breakfast Fruit As A Sweetened Milky Bowl Of Snipped Nips? No.

We Converse As We Live By Repeating, By Combining And Recombining A Few Elements Over And Over Again Just As Nature Does When Of Elementary Particles It Builds A World.