Themost dramatic conflicts are perhaps, those that take place not between menbut between a man and himselfwhere the arena of conflict is a solitary mind.
Thetorment of human frustration, whatever its immediate cause,is the knowledge that the self is in prison, its vital force and ‘mangledmind’ leaking away in lonely, wasteful self-conflict.
The average man’s life consists of: Twenty years of having his mother ask him where he is going, Forty years of having his wife ask the same question; and at the end, the mourners wondering too.
Ialways cheer up immensely if an attack is particularly wounding because I think,well, if they attack one personally, it means they have not a singlepolitical argument left.
