I Don't Write Drafts. I Write From

Learning To Exist In A World Quite Different From That Which Formed You Is The Condition, These Days, Of Pursuing Research You Can On Balance Believe In And Write Sentences You Can More Or Less Live With.

I Agree With Chomsky In Almost Nothing. When It Comes To Innate Structures And So On, I'm Very Skeptical

The North African Mule Talks Always Of His Mother's Brother, The Horse, But Never Of His Father, The Donkey, In Favor Of Others Supposedly More Reputable.

I Was Trained In The '50s As A New Critic. I Remember What Literature Was Like Before The New Critics, When People Stood Up And Talked About Shelley's Soul And Such Things

To See Ourselves As Others See Us Can Be Eye-opening. To See Others As Sharing A Nature With Ourselves Is The Merest Decency. But It Is From The Far More Difficult Achievement Of Seeing Ourselves Amongst Others, As A Local Example Of The Forms Human Life Has Locally Taken, A Case Among Cases, A World Among Worlds, That The Largeness Of Mind, Without Which Objectivity Is Self-congratulation And Tolerance A Sham, Comes.