Much Of The Academy On

In 1952, I Had Gone To England On A Literary Pilgrimage, But What I Also Saw, Even At That Distance From The Blitz, Were Bombed-out Ruins And An Enervated Society, While The Continent Was Still, Psychologically, In The Grip Of Its Recent Atrocities.

Life Is That Which - Pressingly, Persistently, Unfailingly, Imperially - Interrupts.

One Must Avoid Ambition In Order To Write. Otherwise Something Else Is The Goal: Some Kind Of Power Beyond The Power Of Language. And The Power Of Language, It Seems To Me, Is The Only Kind Of Power A Writer Is Entitled To.

It Is Useless Either To Hate Or To Love Truth - But It Should Be Noticed.

Very Bright Teeth As Big And Orderly As Piano Keys.