But To Be Quite Oneself One Must

Memory Must Be Patchy; What Is More Alarming Is Its Face-savingness. Something In One Shrinks From Catching It Out - Unique To Oneself, One's Own, One's Claim To Identity, It Implicates One's Identity In Its Fibbing.

Meeting People Unlike Oneself Does Not Enlarge One's Outlook; It Only Confirms One's Idea That One Is Unique.

Proust Has Pointed Out That The Predisposition To Love Creates Its Own Objects; Is This Not Also True Of Fear?

Style Is The Thing That's Always A Bit Phony, And At The Same Time You Cannot Write Without Style.

Art, At Any Rate In A Novel, Must Be Indissolubly Linked With Craft.