All the things you can talk about in anyone's work are the things that are least important.

Vice is nice, but a little virtue won't hurt you.

Mr Earbrass stands on the terrace at twilight. It is bleak; it is cold; and the virtue has gone out of everything. Words drift through his mind: anguish turnips conjunctions illness defeat string parties no parties urns desuetude disaffection claws loss Trebizond napkins shame stones distance fever Antipodes mush glaciers incoherence labels miasma amputation tides deceit mourning elsewards.

Z is for Zillah who drank too much gin.

There are so many things we've been brought up to believe that it takes you an awfully long time to realize that they aren't you.

Neither mine nor other people's prospects seem particularly pleasing just at the moment, and I have fantasies of going to Iceland, never to return. As it is, I tell myself not to remember the past, not to hope or fear for the future, and not to think in the present, a comprehensive program that will undoubtedly have very little success.

It's well we cannot hear the screams we make in other people's dreams.