The man who has faith in logic is always cuckolded by reality.

There is no loneliness like that of a failed marriage.

Book-publishing is all about politics. Agents, editors, which books will be puffed, which ignored, etc.

Reviewing books is all about coziness. It is all of it a kind of caucus race. Women review women, Jewish writers review and praise Jewish writers, blacks review blacks, etc.

There is a terrible blindness in the love that wants only to accommodate. It's not only to do with omissions and half-truths. It implants a lack of being in the speaker and robs the self of an identity without which it is impossible for one to grow close to another.

The ears, which master the face of a dunce, are that part of the head which most publishes stupidity.

The urge for Chinese food is always unpredictable: famous for no occasion, standard fare for no holiday, and the constant as to demand is either whim, the needy plebiscite of instantly famished drunks, or pregnancy.