Sadistic Literature Is Not Only Inhumane. It

... The Truth Is Exactly That Which Can't Be Got Into Words. We Are Forced To Lie, A Little Or, If We Are Inferior, Much.

Speaking The Truth, Once You Have Started It, Is Too Exhilarating To Draw Back.

An Animal Is Not Cruel; It Lives Wholly In The Instant Leap On Its Prey, In The Present Taste Of Marrow Or Blood. Cruelty Begins With The Memory, And The Pleasures Of The Memory Are Impure; They Draw Their Strength Along Levels Where No Sun Has Reached.

Mere Human Beings Cant Afford To Be Fanatical About Anything. Not Even About Justice Or Loyalty. The Fanatic For Justice Ends By Murdering A Million Helpless People To Clear A Space For His Law-courts. If We Are To Survive On This Planet, There Must Be Compromises.

Inevitably, The Flood Of Literary Pornography Loosed On Us Is Dulling Our Reactions Of Surprise Or Shock. Its Writers Are Forced To Raise The Ante, To Provide Stronger And Stronger Stimulants. Or Try To Provide Them, Since Both The Manner, The Naming Of Parts And The Few Inexpressive Four-letter Words, And The Matter, Are Narrowly Limited.