In morals as in politics anarchy is not for the weak.

My occupational hazard is that I can't help plagiarizing from real life.

Sex annihilates identity, and the space given to sex in contemporary novels is an avowal of the absence of character.

This grossly advertised wonder [Venice], this gold idol with clay feet, this trompe-l'oeil, this painted deception, this cliche-what intelligent iconoclast could fail to experience a destructive impulse in her presence?

In politics, it seems, retreat is honorable if dictated by military considerations and shameful if even suggested for ethical reasons.

Labor is work that leaves no trace behind it when it is finished.

People with bad consciences always fear the judgment of children.