“In this century the writer has carried on a conversation with madness. We might almost say of the twentieth-century writer that he aspires to madness. Some have made it, of course, and they hold special places in our regard. To a writer, madness is a final distillation of self, a final editing down. It’s the drowning out of false voices.”
“When one writer tries to silence another, he silences every writer-and in the end he also silences himself.”
“For a man to achieve all that is demanded of him, he must regard himself as greater than he is.”
“You," he says, laughing in spite of himself, "are mad as a hatter.”
“I'm Keith," he said, "and you're . . . clearly mad, but what's your name?”