We’re talking about the struggle to drag a thought over from the mush of the unconscious into some kind of grammar, syntax, human sense; every attempt means starting over with language. starting over with accuracy.
I am kind of a curmudgeonly person, so I don’t gravitate to groups or traditions, which is probably just pretentious of me.
The philosophical spirit is not satisfied to simply accept what it is told, no matter how much prestige the teller seems to have. This is true even if the teller is a god.
The end of science is not to prove a theory, but to improve mankind.
Shakespeare and Co dedicates itself to a shared, heady and outdated ideal that is scarce in our protective and fearful age.
Larger deficits are necessary and proper means to mitigate unemployment as the far greater evil in terms of human welfare.
Deficits do not in themselves produce inflation, nor does a balanced budget assure a stable price level.
London has always moved and surprised me, reinventing itself in ways both fresh and familiar. It’s a contrary, complex and creative city, an anarchist of a thousand faces – fickle and unfailing, tender and bleak, ambitious and callous.
There are the manufacturing multitudes of England; they must have work, and find markets for their work; if machines and the Black Country are ugly, famine would be uglier still.
Offhand, the only North American writers I can think of who have come from a background of rural poverty and gone on to write about it have been Negroes.