Awe consumes any brand that ignites it.

We have had, alas, and still have, the doubtful habit of reverence. Above all, we respect things as they are.

Time at length becomes justice.

I can't claim to be disenchanted "with the current state of fiction" because I read so little of it. My reading is mostly drawn to history.

To be any sort of competent writer one must keep one's psychological distance from the supreme artists.

Invention despoils observations, insinuation invalidates memory. A stewpot of bad habits, all of it - so that imaginative writers wind up, by and large, a shifty crew, sunk in distortion, misrepresentation, illusion, imposture, fakery.

Time heals all things but one: Time.