Without Form, The Sensitiveness Vanishes.

She Loved Him Absolutely, Perhaps For Half An Hour.

Those Who Search For Truth Are Too Conscious Of The Maze To Be Hard On Others...

A Facade Of Skyscrapers Facing A Lake And Behind The Facade, Every Type Of Dubiousness.

A Novel Is Based On Evidence, + Or -x, The Unknown Quantity Being The Temperament Of The Novelist, And The Unknown Quantity Always Modifies The Effect Of The Evidence, And Sometimes Transforms It Entirely.

The Sadness Of The Incomplete, The Sadness That Is Often Life, But Should Never Be Art.