And When We Love Our Sin Then

That Instinct For Human Character That Is Perhaps Inherent In An Imaginative Writer.

If Only It Were Possible To Love Without Injury – Fidelity Isn’t Enough: I Had Been Faithful To Anne And Yet I Had Injured Her. The Hurt Is In The Act Of Possession: We Are Too Small In Mind And Body To Possess Another Person Without Pride Or To Be Possessed Without Humiliation. In A Way I Was Glad That My Wife Had Struck Out At Me Again – I Had Forgotten Her Pain For Too Long, And This Was The Only Kind Of Recompense I Could Give Her. Unfortunately The Innocent Are Always Involved In Any Conflict. Always, Everywhere, There Is Some Voice Crying From A Tower.

He Had Stylized Himself--life Was Easier That Way. He Had Chosen A Physical Mould Just As Writer Chooses A Technical Form.

At One With The One, It Didn't Mean A Thing Besides A Glass Of Guinness On A Sunny Day.

Indifference And Pride Look Very Much Alike, And He Probably Thought I Was Proud.