Deconstruction glorifies the critic, humiliates the author, and makes the reader wonder why he bothered.

In middle age, I practiced feeling old, but the real thing has been a rude surprise.

Every farewell combines loss and new freedom.

Guilt stirs me, but only to self-pity.

Let's have some good, old-fashioned literature, with a virgin and a moral.

The pleasantest part of work is having done it.

Smiling half-reluctance seems to promise more than the frankest gesture of desire.