Worse Than Madness. Sanity.

Graham Greene At 82 Years Old Was Still Writing, And I Don't Think Anyone Can Deny The Force, The Expertise, And The Unique Quality Of His Writing, If You Take His Complete Oeuvre.

Language Fits Over Experience Like A Straight-jacket.

A Crowd Of Grade-three Thinkers, All Shouting The Same Thing, All Warming Their Hands At The Fire Of Their Own Prejudices, Will Not Thank You For Pointing Out The Contradictions In Their Beliefs. Man Is A Gregarious Animal, And Enjoys Agreement As Cows Will Graze All The Same Way On The Side Of A Hill.

Put Simply The Novel Stands Between Us And The Hardening Concept Of Statistical Man. There Is No Other Medium In Which We Can Live For So Long And So Intimately With A Character. That Is The Service A Novel Renders.

Life Should Serve Up Its Feast Of Experience In A Series Of Courses.