Cultivate Your Futurism. I'll Cultivate My Döblinism.

Next-door A Baker's Apprentice With His Wife, An Employee In A Printing-shop, She Has Inflammation Of The Ovaries. Wonder What Those Two Get Out Of Life? Well, First Of All, They Get Each Other, Then Last Sunday A Vaudeville And A Film, Then This Or That Club Meeting And A Visit To His Parents. Nothing Else? Well Now, Don't Drop Dead, Sir. Add To That Nice Weather, Bad Weather, Country Picnics, Standing In Front Of The Stove, Eating Breakfast And So On. And What More Do You Get, You, Captain, General, Jockey, Whoever You Are? Don't Fool Yourself.

The Cities Are The Principal Home And Seat Of The Human Group. They Are The Coral Colony For Man, The Collective Being.

The Subject Of The Novel Is Reality Liberated From Soul. The Reader In Complete Independence Presented With A Structured Process:let Him Evaluate It, Not The Author. The Façade Of The Novel Cannot Be Other Than Stone Or Steel, Flashing Electrically Or Dark, But Silent.

But Such Is Life, The Silliest Proverbs Prove To Be True, And When A Man Thinks, Now It's All Right, It's Not All Right By A Longshot. Man Proposes, God Disposes, And There's Always That Last Straw To Break The Camel's Back.

In The Course Of Writing One Historical Book Or Another, It Has Happened That I Could Hardly Restrain Myself From Simply Copying Entire Documents. Indeed, I Sometimes Sank Down Among The Documents And Said To Myself, I Can't Improve On These.