The Artist Secretes Nostalgia Around Life.

The English Language Is Like A Broad River On Whose Bank A Few Patient Anglers Are Sitting, While, Higher Up, The Stream Is Being Polluted By A String Of Refuse-barges Tipping Out Their Muck.

Civilization Is An Active Deposit Which Is Formed By The Combustion Of The Present With The Past. Neither In Countries Without A Present Nor In Those Without A Past Is It To Be Discovered.

The Artist Is A Member Of The Leisured Classes Who Cannot Pay For His Leisure.

As Repressed Sadists Are Supposed To Become Policemen Or Butchers So Those With An Irrational Fear Of Life Become Publishers.

The Refractory Pupil Of Socrates, Aristippus The Cyrene, Who Believed Happiness To Be The Sum Of Particular Pleasures And Golden Moments And Not, As Epicurus, A Prolonged Intermediary State Between Ecstasy And Pain.