Language Is Memory And Metaphor.

Each Time That I Have Run Away - And From A Habit It Quickly Became An Illness - I Have Betrayed Someone. Myself, But Not Always Only Myself.

Critics Have Been Amusing Themselves For A Long Time By Auscultating Fiction For Signs Of Heart Failure.

Lord, If There Is A Heartache Vienna Cannot Cure I Hope Never To Feel It. I Came Home Cured Of Everything Except Vienna.

An Intelligent Man Or Woman Willing To Make A Career Of Reviewing Fiction Is Hard To Come By ... And The Temporaries Do The Work Cheaply. Moreover, Continuity May Be Got At The Expense Of Intellectual Arthritis; A Reviewer Who Has Been At His Grisly Task For Half A Lifetime May Stiffen Into Prejudices Of Every Sort, And Become Too Anchylosed To Do Better Than Turn His Back To A New Wave When It Rushes Down On Him.

To Reject Censorship After Studying The Risks Involved Is Very Well. To Reject It Ex Cathedra, In The Tones Of Calvin Pronouncing A Dogma, Eyes And Mind Closed To The Possible Consequences, The Even Marginally Possible, Is To Make Things Too Comfortable For Oneself.