One Has No Talent. I

Death Was Far More Certain Than God.

Christmas It Seems To Me Is A Necessary Festival; We Require A Season When We Can Regret All The Flaws In Our Human Relationships: It Is The Feast Of Failure, Sad But Consoling.

That Instinct For Human Character That Is Perhaps Inherent In An Imaginative Writer.

Our Worst Enemies Here Are Not The Ignorant And Simple, However Cruel; Our Worst Enemies Are The Intelligent And Corrupt

The Problem Of Pretending To Be Alive.