M Is For Marx And

Beneath A Mask Of Selfish Tranquility Nothing Exists Except Bitterness And Boredom. I Am One Of Those Whom Suffering Has Made Empty And Frivolous: Each Night In My Dreams I Pull The Scab Off A Wound; Each Day, Vacuous And Habit-ridden, I Help It Re-form.

The Shock, For An Intelligent Writer, Of Discovering For The First Time That There Are People Younger Than Himself Who Think Him Stupid Is Severe.

Were I To Deduce Any System From My Feelings On Leaving Eton, It Might Be Called The Theory Of Permanent Adolescence. It Is The Theory That The Experiences Undergone By Boys At The Great Public Schools, Their Glories And Disappointments, Are So Intense As To Dominate Their Lives And To Arrest Their Development. From These It Results That The Greater Part Of The Ruling Class Remains Adolescent, School-minded, Self-conscious, Cowardly, Sentimental, And In The Last Analysis Homosexual.

There Is Immunity In Reading, Immunity In Formal Society, In Office Routine, In The Company Of Old Friends And In The Giving Of Officious Help To Strangers, But There Is No Sanctuary In One Bed From The Memory Of Another. The Past With Its Anguish Will Break Through Every Defense-line Of Custom And Habit; We Must Sleep And Therefore We Must Dream.

As Repressed Sadists Are Supposed To Become Policemen Or Butchers So Those With An Irrational Fear Of Life Become Publishers.