The Main Trouble With Being

The Quality Which Makes Man Want To Write And Be Read Is Essentially A Desire For Self-exposure And Masochism. Like One Of Those Guys Who Has A Compulsion To Take His Thing Out And Show It On The Street.

The Main Trouble With Being An Honest Man Was That It Lost You All Your Illusions.

War Don't Ennoble Men, It Turns 'em Into Dogs. It Poisons The Soul.

That Was One Of The Virtues Of Being A Pessimist: Nothing Was Ever As Bad As You Thought It Would Be.

Up Until Then It Had Only Been Himself. Up To Then It Had Been A Private Wrestle Between Him And Himself. Nobody Else Much Entered Into It. After The People Came Into It He Was, Of Course, A Different Man. Everything Had Changed Then And He Was No Longer The Virgin, With The Virgin's Right To Insist Upon Platonic Love. Life, In Time, Takes Every Maidenhead, Even If It Has To Dry It Up; It Does Not Matter How The Owner Wants To Keep It. Up To Then He Had Been The Young Idealist. But He Could Not Stay There. Not After The Other People Entered Into It.