Believing In Hell Must Distort

A Mutually Fulfilled Sexual Union Between Two People Is The Rarest Sensation Which Life Can Provide. But It Is Not Quite Real. It Stops When The Telephone Rings. Such A Passion Can Be Kept At Its Early Strength Only By Adding To It Either More And More Unhappiness (jealousy, Separation, Doubt, Renunciation), Or More And More Artificiality (drink, Technique, Stage-illusions). Whoever Has Missed This Has Never Lived, Who Lives For It Alone Is But Partly Alive.

There Is No More Sombre Enemy Of Good Art Than The Pram In The Hall.

Idleness Is Only A Coarse Name For My Infinite Capacity For Living In The Present.

There Are Many Who Dare Not Kill Themselves For Fear Of What The Neighbours Will Say.

M Is For Marx And Clashing Of Classes And Movement Of Masses And Massing Of Asses.