Life Is, Of Course, Terrible.

Sanity Is A Handicap And Liability If You're Living In A Mad World.

Elgar Is Not Manic Enough To Be Russian, Not Witty Or Pointilliste Enough To Be French, Not Harmonically Simple Enough To Be Italian And Not Stodgy Enough To Be German. We Arrive At His Englishry By Pure Elimination.

Literature Is All, Or Mostly, About Sex.

How Wicked, My Brothers, Innocent Milk Must Always Seem To Me Now.

I Didn't Think; I Experimented.