Sublime

Pickwickian

and he will not believe these things. He will not believe them because he has no humility, and therefore no realism. He has never been inside himself; and so could never be inside another man.

Because the ancient instinct and humour of humanity have always told them, under whatever conventions, that the conventions of complex cities were less really healthy and happy than the customs of the countryside.

For example, I’ve never jerked off thinking about a woman I don’t know and stand little chance of getting to know, like a famous actress or model. But there is a scenario I come back to again and again. I think it must be inspired by a film I once saw, Jarmusch’s Broken Flowers, with Bill Murray.

'although his mode of expressing his opinion is somewhat homely, and occasionally incomprehensible.'