Many Try To Force The Past To

Lonely People Keep Up A Ceaseless Flow Of Commentary On Themselves.

If I Could Do My Life Over, I Would Try To Cleanse At Least My Pleasures Of Self-pity.

Fruitless Striving Breeds Less Despair Than Inaction.

When Poets Go Off The Boil, They Sound Like Bumble Bees; When Critics Do, They Sound Like Sewing Machines.

Intelligence Is Predatory, But Full Of Fastidiousness And Frights.