The Impossible Talked Of Is Less Impossible

There Is A Stage In Any Misery When The Victim Begins To Find A Deep Satisfaction In 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.

Language Is Memory And Metaphor.

Hope Is A Talent Like Any Other.

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.