When the shriveled skin of the ordinary is stuffed out with meaning, it satisfies the senses amazingly.

A veil of insanity everywhere: Oh why I was born in this age? It is a terrible age.

Use words that soak up life.

Moreover, a book is not made of sentences laid end to end, but of sentences built, if an image helps, into arcades or domes.

madam," the man cried, leaping to the ground, "you're hurt!" "I'm dead, sir!" she replied. A few minutes later, they became engaged.

Literature is no one’s private ground, literature is common ground; let us trespass freely and fearlessly and find our own way for ourselves.

Why, he wondered, did people who had been asleep always want to make out that they were extremely wide-awake?