The aim of every artist is to arrest motion, which is life, by artificial means and hold it fixed so that a hundred years later, when a stranger looks at it, it moves again since it is life. Since man is mortal, the only immortality possible for him is to leave something behind him that is immortal since it will always move. This is the artist's way of scribbling "Kilroy was here" on the wall of the final and irrevocable oblivion through which he must someday pass.

I am not one of those women who can stand things.

Man performs and engenders so much more than he can or should have to bear. That's how he finds that he can bear anything.

Let the writer take up surgery or bricklaying if he is interested in technique.

It is easy enough to say that man is immortal simply because he will endure: that when the last ding-dong of doom has clanged and faded from the last worthless rock hanging tideless in the last red and dying evening, that even then there will still be one more sound: that of his puny inexhaustible voice, still talking.

If you could just ravel out into time. That would be nice. It would be nice if you could just ravel out into time

You men,' she says. 'You durn men.