Pain Is Easy To Write.

Who Knows Whether There May Not Be A Moment In Childhood When The World Changes Forever, Like Making A Face When The Clock Strikes?

Thought's A Luxury. Do You Think The Peasant Sits And Thinks Of God And Democracy When He Gets Inside His Mud Hut At Night?

Any Man Who Knocks On The Door Of A Brothel Is Looking For God.

Hate Is An Automatic Response To Fear, For Fear Humiliates.

He Had Stylized Himself--life Was Easier That Way. He Had Chosen A Physical Mould Just As Writer Chooses A Technical Form.