Those Rituals Of Getting Ready

To Turn Experience Into Speech - That Is, To Classify, To Categorize, To Conceptualize, To Grammarize, To Syntactify It - Is Always A Betrayal Of Experience, A Falsification Of It; But Only So Betrayed Can It Be Dealt With At All, And Only In So Dealing With It Did I Ever Feel A Man, Alive And Kicking.

Like An Ox-cart Driver In Monsoon Season Or The Skipper Of A Grounded Ship, One Must Sometimes Go Forward By Going Back.

I Admire Writers Who Can Make Complicated Things Simple, But My Own Talent Has Been To Make Simple Things Complicated.

The Genie Declared That In His Time And Place There Were Scientists Of The Passions Who Maintained That Language Itself, On The One Hand, Originated In 'infantile Pregenital Erotic Exuberance, Polymorphously Perverse,' And That Conscious Attention, On The Other, Was A 'libidinal Hypercathexis' - By Which Magic Phrases They Seemed To Mean That Writing And Reading, Or Telling And Listening, Were Literally Ways Of Making Love.

Not Every Boy Thrown To The Wolves Becomes A Hero.