I Sometimes Think Novelists Write

Why Is It That One Can Look At A Lion Or A Planet Or An Owl Or At Someone's Finger As Long As One Pleases, But Looking Into The Eyes Of Another Person Is, If Prolonged Past A Second, A Perilous Affair?

What Needs To Be Discharged Is The Intolerable Tenderness Of The Past, The Past Gone And Grieved Over And Never Made Sense Of. Music Ransoms Us From The Past, Declares An Amnesty, Brackets And Sets Aside The Old Puzzles. Sing A New Song. Start A New Life, Get A Girl, Look Into Her Shadowy Eyes, Smile.

Genius Consists Not In Making Great Discoveries, But In Seeing The Connection Between Small Discoveries.

Maybe There Are Times When An Honest Hatred Serves Us Better Than Love Corrupted By Sentimentality, Meretriciousness, Sententiousness, Cuteness.

Children Notice Things First, People Later.