Is it better for a man to have chosen evil than to have good imposed upon him?

But we were all feeling that bit shagged and fagged and fashed, it having been an evening of some small energy expenditure.

The writer's life seethes within but not without.

Immortality makes sense only when the individual soul can be thought of as merging into a great collective mush of sainthood. If we take anything with us into the next world, it is not what survives in the memories of our relicts.

Art is rare and sacred and hard work, and there ought to be a wall of fire around it.

John Kenneth Galbraith and Marshall McLuhan are the two greatest modern Canadians that the U.S. has produced.

As we are all solipsists, and all die, the world dies with us. Only very minor literature aims at apocalypse.