Falling Out Of Love Is

Every Book Is The Wreck Of A Perfect Idea.

One Doesn't Have To Get Anywhere In A Marriage. It's Not A Public Conveyance.

Almost Any Tale Of Our Doings Is Comic. We Are Bottomlessly Comic To Each Other. Even The Most Adored And Beloved Person Is Comic To His Lover. The Novel Is A Comic Form. Language Is A Comic Form, And Makes Jokes In Its Sleep. God, If He Existed, Would Laugh At His Creation. Yet It Is Also The Case That Life Is Horrible, Without Metaphysical Sense, Wrecked By Chance, Pain And The Close Prospect Of Death. Out Of This Is Born Irony, Our Dangerous And Necessary Tool.

Falling Out Of Love Is Chiefly A Matter Of Forgetting How Charming Someone Is.

Only The Very Greatest Art Invigorates Without Consoling.