Nothing is loathsomer than the self-loathing of a self one loathes.
The horror of our history has purged me of opinions.
History - an account, mostly false, of events, mostly unimportant
Choosing is existence. To the extent that you don't choose, you don't exist.
If you are a novelist of a certain type of termperament, then what you really want to do is re-invent the world. God wasn't too bad a novelist except he was a Realist.
Is man a savage at heart, skinned o'er with fragile Manners? Or is savagery but a faint taint in the natural man's gentility, which erupts now and again like pimples on an angel's arse?