And the betrayers of language ...... n and the press gang And those who had lied for hire; The perverts, the perverters of language, the perverts, who have set money-lust Before the pleasures of the senses; howling, as of a hen-yard in a printing-house, the clatter of presses, the blowing of dry dust and stray paper, foetor, sweat, the stench of stale oranges.

It is difficult to write a paradiso when all the superficial indications are that you ought to write an apocalypse.

where the dead walked and the living were made of cardboard.

Discoveries are made by gluttons and addicts. The man who forgets to eat and sleep has an appetite for fact, for interrelations among causes.

If a nation's literature declines, the nation atrophies and decays.

I desired my dust to be mingled with yours Forever and forever and forever.

Great literature is simply language charged with meaning to the utmost possible degree.