How Well I Would Write If I

The Catalogue Of Forms Is Endless: Until Every Shape Has Found Its City, New Cities Will Continue To Be Born. When The Forms Exhaust Their Variety And Come Apart, The End Of Cities Begins.

Yet, Even Now, Ever Time (often) That I Find That I Don't Understand Something, Then Instinctively, I'm Filled With The Hope That Perhaps This Will Be My Moment Again, Perhaps Once Again I Shall Understand Nothing, I Shall Grasp That Other Knowledge, Found And Lost In An Instant.

The Novels That Attract Me Most Are Those That Create An Illusion Of Transparency Around A Knot Of Human Relationships As Obscure, Cruel, And Perverse As Possible.

A Classic Is A Book That Has Never Finished Saying What It Has To Say.

Every Choice Has Its Obverse, That Is To Say A Renunciation, And So There Is No Difference Between The Act Of Choosing And The Act Of Renouncing