The Task Is Not So

I Don’t Think You Can Talk About Progress In Art—movement, But Not Progress.

The Privileged Classes Can Afford Psychoanalysis And Whiskey. Whereas All We Get Is Sermons And Sour Wine. This Is Manifestly Unfair. I Protest, Silently.

Art Is Not Difficult Because It Wishes To Be Difficult, Rather Because It Wishes To Be Art. However Much The Writer Might Long To Be Straightforward, These Virtues Are No Longer Available To Him. He Discovers That In Being Simple, Honest, Straightforward, Nothing Much Happens.

The Death Of God Left The Angels In A Strange Position.

Let Me Point Out, If It Has Escaped Your Notice, That What An Artist Does, Is Fail.