A Man Kept His Character Even When

When You Visualized A Man Or A Woman Carefully, You Could Always Begin To Feel Pity . . . That Was A Quality God's Image Carried With It . . . When You Saw The Lines At The Corners Of The Eyes, The Shape Of The Mouth, How The Hair Grew, It Was Impossible To Hate. Hate Was Just A Failure Of Imagination.

All Good Novelists Have Bad Memories. What You Remember Comes Out As Journalism; What You Forget Goes Into The Compost Of The Imagination.

When He Was Young, He Had Thought Love Had Something To Do With Understanding, But With Age He Knew That No Human Being Understood Another. Love Was The Wish To Understand, And Presently With Constant Failure The Wish Died, And Love Died Too Perhaps Or Changed Into This Painful Affection, Loyalty, Pity.

Sooner Or Later... One Has To Take Sides. If One Is To Remain Human.

There's A Virtue In Slowness, Which We Have Lost