Life, After All, Should Go Forwards, Not

Language Is The Net That Holds Thought Trapped Within A Particular Culture. But If One Could Only Strike The Ball With Sufficient Force, With Perfect Timing, It Would Perhaps Break Through The Netting, Continue On Its Course, Never Fall To Earth, But Go Into Orbit Around The World.

I Respect A Man Who Can Recognize A Quotation. It's A Dying Art.

Paraphrase, In The Sense Of Summary, Is As Indispensable To The Novel-critic As Close Analysis Is To The Critic Of Lyric Poetry. The Natural Deduction Is That Novels Are Paraphrasable Whereas Poems Are Not. But This Is A False Deduction Because Close Analysis Is Itself A Disguised Form Of Paraphrase.

Whhheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee! The Scream Of Jet Engines Rises To A Crescendo On The Runways Of The World. Every Second, Somewhere Or Other, A Plane Touches Down, With A Puff Of Smoke From Scorched Tyre Rubber, Or Rises In The Air, Leaving A Smear Of Black Fumes Dissolving In Its Wake. From Space, The Earth Might Look To A Fanciful Eye Like A Huge Carousel, With Planes Instead Of Horses Spinning Round Its Circumference, Up And Down, Up And Down. Whhheeeeeeeeeee!

Universities Are The Cathedrals Of The Modern Age. They Shouldn't Have To Justify Their Existence By Utilitarian Criteria.