Time Forks Perpetually Toward Innumerable Futures.

Beyond My Anxiety, Beyond This Writing, The Universe Waits, Inexhaustible, Inviting.

In All Fiction, When A Man Is Faced With Alternatives He Chooses One At The Expense Of Others.

He Consorted With Prostitutes And Poets...and With Persons Even Worse.

I Would Define The Baroque As That Style That Deliberately Exhausts (or Tries To Exhaust) Its Own Possibilities, And That Borders On Self-caricature. The Baroque Is The Final Stage In All Art, When Art Flaunts And Squanders Its Resources.

I Think It's All To The Good That A Writer Shouldn't Be Too Famous. Because, In A Country Where A Writer May Be Famous, He May Be Pandering To The Mob, Celebrity And So On.