To Write Is A Humiliation.

What Is Most Appalling In An F. Scott Fitzgerald Book Is That It Is Peopleless Fiction: Fitzgerald Writes About Spectral, Muscledsuits; Dresses, Hats, And Sleeves Which Have Some Sort Of Vague, Libidinous Throb. These Are Plainly The Product Of Sickness.

Those Who Write For Lucre Or Fame Are Grosser Than The Cartel Robbers, For They Steal The Genius Of The People, Which Is Its Will To Resist Evil.

Ambition Is A Dead Sea Fruit, And The Greatest Peril To The Soul Is That One Is Likely To Get Precisely What He Is Seeking.

Of All The Animals On Earth, None Is So Brutish As Man When He Seeks The Delirium Of Coition.

Though Man Is The Only Beast That Can Write, He Has Small Reason To Be Proud Of It. When He Utters Something That Is Wise It Is Nothing That The River Horse Does Not Know, And Most Of His Creations Are The Result Of Accident.