Is Any Novelist Going To Recognize The

History Is That Certainty Produced At The Point Where The Imperfections Of Memory Meet The Inadequacies Of Documentation.

I Had Wanted Life Not To Bother Me Too Much, And Had Succeeded - And How Pitiful That Was.

It Strikes Me That This May Be One Of The Differences Between Youth And Age: When We Are Young, We Invent Different Futures For Ourselves; When We Are Old, We Invent Different Pasts For Others.

And That Was All The Part Of It - The Way You Were Obliged To Live. You Stifled A Groan, You Lied About Your Love, You Deceived Your Legal Wife, And All In The Name Of Honour. That Was The Damned Paradox Of It - In Order To Behave Well, You Have To Behave Badly.

To Be Stupid, And Selfish, And To Have Good Health Are The Three Requirements For Happiness.