Discussion in class, which means letting twenty young blockheads and two cocky neurotics discuss something that neither their teacher nor they know.

Why do those people guess so much and shave so little, and are so disdainful of hearing aids?

There was no Lo to behold.

do what only a true artist can do ... pounce upon the forgotten butterfly of revelation

There is only one school of literature - that of talent.

Between the wolf in the tall grass and the wolf in the tall story there is a shimmering go-between. That go-between, that prism, is the art of literature.

Genius still means to me, in my Russian fastidiousness and pride of phrase, a unique dazzling gift. The gift of James Joyce, and not the talent of Henry James.