James Joyce buried himself in his great work. _Finnegan's Wake_ is his monument and his tombstone. A dead end.

Humility is a virtue when you have no other.

Belief? What do I believe in? I believe in sun. In rock. In the dogma of the sun and the doctrine of the rock. I believe in blood, fire, woman, rivers, eagles, storm, drums, flutes, banjos, and broom-tailed horses.

As between the skulking and furtive poacher, who hunts for the sake of meat, and the honest gentleman shooter, who kills for the pleasure of sport, I find the former a higher type of humanity.

Our big social institutions do not reflect human nature; they distort it.

Henry James was our master of periphrasis -- the fine art of saying as little as possible in the greatest number of words.

Capitalism sounds good in theory but it just doesn't work.