He is the intermediary between us, his audience, the living, and they, the dolls, the undead, who cannot live at all and yet who mimic the living in ….

A day without an argument is like an egg without salt..

The invisible is only another unexplored country, a brave new world..

One beast and only one howls in the woods by night..

Iconic clothing has been secularized. . . . A guardsman in a dress uniform is ostensibly an icon of aggression; his coat is red as the blood he hopes….

His contagious conviction that our love was unique and desperate infected me with an anxious sickness; soon we would learn to treat one another with ….

She stands and moves within the invisible pentacle of her own virginity. She is an unbroken egg: she is a sealed vessel; she has inside her a magic s….

Women's sexy underwear is a minor but significant growth industry of late-twentieth-century Britain in the twilight of capitalism..

It is far easier for a woman to lead a blameless life than it is for a man; all she has to do is to avoid sexual intercourse like the plague..

I think I want to be in love with you but I don't know how..

Mother goddesses are just as silly a notion as father gods. If a revival of the myths of these cults gives woman emotional satisfaction, it does so a….

The kind of power mothers have is enormous..

Out of the frying pan into the fire! What is marriage but prostitution to one man instead of many? No different!.

I see her as a series of marvellous shapes formed at random in the kaleidoscope of desire..

With that, the poignant charm vanished. Inside the fifth machine, all was rampant malignity. Deformed flowers thrust monstrous horned tusks and trump….

All artists, they say, are a little mad. This madness is, to a certain extent, a self-created myth designed to keep the generality away from the phen….

Your green eye is a reducing chamber. If I look into it long enough, I wil become as small as my own reflection, I will diminish to a point and vanis….

F.R. Leavis's "eat up your broccoli" approach to fiction emphasises this junkfood/wholefood dichotomy. If reading a novel--for theeighteenth century ….

Spindly branches of buttercups were secreted among gleaming stems still moist at the roots from last night's rain that had washedand refreshed the en….

Nostalgia, the vice of the aged. We watch so many old movies our memories come in monochrome..

What a joy it is to dance and sing!.