Once upon a time there were mass media, and they were wicked, of course, and there was a guilty party. Then there were the virtuous voices that accused the criminals. And Art (ah, what luck!) offered alternatives, for those who were not prisoners to the mass media.

It is necessary to meditate early, and often, on the art of dying to succeed later in doing it properly just once.

Two cliches make us laugh. A hundred cliches move us. For we sense dimly that the cliches are talking among themselves, and celebrating a reunion.

Is it possible to say "It was a beautiful morning at the end of November" without feeling like Snoopy?

With all of its defects, the global market makes war less likely, even between the USA and China.

I discovered ... that a novel has nothing to do with words in the first instance. Writing a novel is a cosmological matter, like the story told by Genesis (we all have to choose our role models, as Woody Allen puts it).

Nothing is more fleeting than external form, which withers and alters like the flowers of the field at the appearance of autumn.