If Ever You Wish To Meet Intellectual

What Matters In The End In Literature, What Is Always There, Is The Truly Good. And- Though Played Out Forms Can Throw Up Miraculous Sports Like The Importance Of Being Earnest Or Decline And Fall- What Is Good Is Always What Is New, In Both Form And Content. What Is Good Forgets Whatever Models It Might Have Had, And Is Unexpected; We Have To Catch It On The Wing.

In The Beginning, Before The Arrival Of The White Men, I Had Considered Myself Neutral. I Had Wanted Neither Side To Win, Neither The Army Nor The Rebels. As It Turned Out, Both Sides Lost.

Home Is, I Suppose Just A Child's Idea. A House At Night, And A Lamp In The House. A Place To Feel Safe.

A Civilization Which Has Taken Over The World Cannot Be Said To Be Dying.

Look, Boys, It Ever Strike You That The World Not Real At All? It Ever Strike You That We Have The Only Mind In The World And You Just Thinking Up Everything Else? Like Me Here, Having The Only Mind In The World, And Thinking Up You People Here, Thinking Up The War And All The Houses And The Ships And Them In The Harbour. That Ever Cross Your Mind?