Bluebeard

I've got news for Mr. Santayana: we're doomed to repeat the past no matter what. That's what it is to be alive.

Time is liquid. One moment is no more important than any other and all moments quickly run away.

"We're having a celebration, so all sorts of things have been said which are not true," I said. "That's how to act at a party."

"I can't help it," I said. "My soul knows my meat is doing bad things, and is embarrassed. But my meat just keeps right on doing bad, dumb things."

"You and your what?" he said.

"My soul and my meat," I said.

"They're separate?" he said.

"I sure hope they are," I said. I laughed. "I would hate to be responsible for what my meat does."

Who is more to be pitied, a writer bound and gagged by policemen or one living in perfect freedom who has nothing more to say?

'''Belief is nearly the whole of the Universe, whether based on truth or not.

What is literature but an insider's newsletter about affairs relating to molecules, of no importance to anything in the Universe but a few molecules who have the disease called "thought".

It is a gruesome Disneyland. Nobody is cute there.