They Say That If You Get Bored

Whatever The Heart Desires, It Purchases At The Cost Of Soul

A Critic Is A Lug-worm In The Liver Of Literature.

There Is No Pain Compared To That Of Loving A Woman Who Makes Her Body Accessible To One And Yet Who Is Incapable Of Delivering Her True Self -- Because She Does Not Know Where To Find It.

Perhaps Our Only Sickness Is To Desire A Truth Which We Cannot Bear Rather Than To Rest Content With The Fictions We Manufacture Out Of Each Other.

It Is Not Peace We Seek But Meaning.