Bad Literature Is A Form

I Am Quite Prepared To Die Here [in Ny]. It Doesn't Matter At All. I Don't Know Better Places, Or Perhaps If I Do I Am Not Prepared To Make A Move.

Twentieth-century Russian Literature Has Produced Nothing Special Except Perhaps One Novel And Two Stories By Andrei Platonov, Who Ended His Days Sweeping Streets.

Love Itself Is The Most Elitist Of Passions. It Acquires Its Stereoscopic Substance And Perspective Only In The Context Of Culture, For It Takes Up More Place In The Mind Than It Does In Bed. Outside Of That Setting It Falls Flat Into One-dimensional Fiction.

Literature Sort Of Makes Your Daily Operation, Your Daily Conduct, The Management Of Your Affairs In The Society A Bit More Complex. And It Puts What You Do In Perspective, And People Don't Like To See Themselves Or Their Activities In Perspective. They Don't Feel Quite Comfortable With That. Nobody Wants To Acknowledge The Insignificance Of His Life, And That Is Very Often The Net Result Of Reading A Poem.

Out Of Dostoevsky: Kafka. Out Of Tolstoy: Margaret Mitchell. (in Conversation, Explaining His Dislike For Tolstoy)