If You Would Learn A Thing, Straightway

I Particularly Scorn My Fondness For Paradox. I Despise Pessimism, Narcissism, Solipsism, Truculence, Word-play, And Pusillanimity, My Chiefer Inclinations; Loathe Self-loathers Ergo Me; Have No Pity For Self-pity And So Am Free Of That Sweet Baseness. I Doubt I Am. Being Me’s No Joke.

In Art As In Lovemaking, Heartfelt Ineptitude Has Its Appeal And So Does Heartless Skill, But What You Want Is Passionate Virtuosity.

Nothing Is Loathsomer Than The Self-loathing Of A Self One Loathes.

Though Life's Tuition Is Always Ruinous, Inexorably We Learn.

A Curious Thing About Written Literature: It Is About Four Thousand Years Old, But We Have No Way Of Knowing Whether Four Thousand Years Constitutes Senility Or The Maiden Blush Of Youth.