Towns Are After All Excrescences, Grey Fluxions,

One Of The Evils Of Money Is That It Tempts Us To Look At It Rather Than At The Things That It Buys.

In The Creative State A Man Is Taken Out Of Himself.

Life - No, I've Nothing To Teach You About It For The Moment. May Be Writing About It Another Week.

...the True Spirit Of Gastronomic Joylessness. Porridge Fills The Englishman Up, And Prunes Clear Him Out.

Most Of Life Is So Dull That There Is Nothing To Be Said About It, And The Books And Talks That Would Describe It As Interesting Are Obliged To Exaggerate, In The Hope Of Justifying Their Own Existence. Inside Its Cocoon Of Work Or Social Obligation, The Human Spirit Slumbers For The Most Part, Registering The Distinction Between Pleasure And Pain, But Not Nearly As Alert As We Pretend. There Are Periods In The Most Thrilling Day During Which Nothing Happens, And Though We Continue To Exclaim, "i Do Enjoy Myself", Or , "i Am Horrified," We Are Insincere.