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Marxism Has Not Only Failed To Promote Human Freedom, It Has Failed To Produce Food.

It Was The Ponderous Battering Ram Of His Novels That Opened The Way Through The Genteel Reticences Of American Nineteenth-century Fiction. . . Without [theodore] Dreiser's Treading Out A Path For Naturalism None Of Us Would Have Had A Chance To Publish.

The Only Excuse For A Novelist, Aside From The Entertainment And Vicarious Living His Books Give The People Who Read Them, Is As A Sort Of Second-class Historian Of The Age He Lives In. The "reality" He Missed By Writing About Imaginary People, He Gains By Being Able To Build A Reality More Nearly Out Of His Own Factual Experience Than A Plain Historian Or Biographer Can.

Isn't It Curious How Completely Ignorant We All Are Of The Most Important Part Of Our Bodily Mechanism. It Is Really Criminal. Yet There Is No Nation In The World That Doesnt Surround Sex With Fantastic Walls. Of Course Ours Are Sillier Than Any-but Not Much.

The Business Of A Novelist Is, In My Opinion, To Create Characters First And Foremost, And Then To Set Them In The Snarl Of The Human Currents Of His Time, So That There Results An Accurate Permanent Record Of A Phase Of History.