Malice Remains Its Animating Impulse.

Every Journalist Who Is Not Too Stupid Or Too Full Of Himself To Notice What Is Going On Knows That What He Does Is Morally Indefensible. He Is A Kind Of Confidence Man, Preying On People's Vanity, Ignorance Or Loneliness, Gaining Their Trust And Betraying Them Without Remorse.

[richard Avedon's] Camera Dwells On The Horrible Things That Age Can Do To People's Faces - On The Flabby Flesh, The Slack Skin, The Ugly Growths, The Puffy Eyes, The Knotted Necks, The Aimless Wrinkles, The Fearful And Anxious Set Of The Mouth, The Marks Left By Sickness, Madness, Alcoholism, And Irreversible Disappointment.

This Is What It Is The Business Of The Artist To Do. Art Is Theft, Art Is Armed Robbery, Art Is Not Pleasing Your Mother.

Journalists Justify Their Treachery In Various Ways According To Their Temperaments. The More Pompous Talk About Freedom Of Speech And ‘the Public’s Right To Know’; The Least Talented Talk About Art; The Seemliest Murmur About Earning A Living.

The Writer, Like The Murderer, Needs A Motive.