The great writers, Conrad, Maugham and Melville, spent only a few years in the South Seas, but their memory of those waters was indestructible; for the nature of life in the islands commands attention...
I have often been mildly amused when I think that the great American novel was not written about New England or Chicago. It was written about a white whale in the South Pacific.
Writting turns you into somebody who's always wrong. The illusion that you may get ir right someday is the perversity that draws you on. What else could? As pathological phenomena go, it doesn't...
The Red Lion was a four-ale bar with a handful of lowbrowed sons of toil who looked as though they...
What could you do? Major Major asked himself again. What could you do with a man who looked you...
Keep in mind that when we talk of a great painting we are not really talking about anything great....
Why are they going to disappear him? I don't know. It doesn't make sense. It isn't even good...
Read me back the last line. 'Read me back the last line,' read back the corporal who could take...
Havermeyer was a lead bombardier who never missed. Yossarian was a lead bombardier who had been...
It isn't even good grammar. What the hell does it mean when they disappear somebody?
Inscribed on the back was a line from Virgil in Latin: Audentes fortuna juvat. Fortune favors the...
When I stand and contemplate my fate and see the path along which you have led me, I reach my end,...