Why Break The Heart That Never Beat

As I See It, Life Is An Effort To Grip Before They Slip Through One's Fingers And Slide Into Oblivion, The Startling, The Ghastly Or The Blindingly Exquisite Fish Of The Imagination Before They Whip Away On The Endless Current And Are Lost For Ever In Oblivion's Black Ocean.

Yet Not With All Of Me Am I In Love. Too Much Of My Own Quietness Is With Me.

Gormenghast, That Is, The Main Massing Of The Original Stone, Taken By Itself Would Have Displayed A Certain Ponderous Architectural Quality Were It Possible To Have Ignored The Circumfusion Of Those Mean Dwellings That Swarmed Like An Epidemic Around It S Outer Walls.

I Am Clever Enough To Know That I Am Clever.

For What Use Are Books To Anyone Whose Days Are Like A Rook's Nest With Every Twig A Duty.