Only By Avoiding The Beginning

In My Religion, There Would Be No Exclusive Doctrine; All Would Be Love, Poetry, And Doubt.

The English Language Is Like A Broad River On Whose Bank A Few Patient Anglers Are Sitting, While, Higher Up, The Stream Is Being Polluted By A String Of Refuse-barges Tipping Out Their Muck.

That Sinister Stonehenge Of Economic Man, Rockefeller Center.

Nothing Dates Like Hate And In Literature A Little Of It Goes A Very Long Way.

Melancholy And Remorse Forms The Deep Leaden Keel Which Enables Us To Sail Into The Wind Of Reality.