Why Does The Writing Make

You Can Put It Another Way, Of Course; You Always Can.

History Is The Lies Of The Victors.

Paris Is Certainly One Of The Most Boastful Of Cities, And You Could Argue That It Has Had A Lot To Boast About: At Various Times The European Centre Of Power, Of Civilisation, Of The Arts, And (self-advertisingly, At Least) Of Love.

What Is The Easiest, The Most Comfortable Thing For A Writer To Do? To Congratulate The Society In Which He Lives: To Admire Its Biceps, Applaud Its Progress, Tease It Endearingly About Its Follies.

Why Does The Writing Make Us Chase The Writer? Why Can't We Leave Well Enough Alone? Why Aren't The Books Enough?