But childhood prolonged, cannot remain a fairyland. It becomes a hell.
The intellectual is a middle-class product; if he is not born into the class he must soon insert himself into it, in order to exist. He is the fine nervous flower of the bourgeoisie.
Because language is the carrier of ideas, it is easy to believe that it should be very little else than such a carrier.
Women have no wilderness in them. They are provident instead content in the tight hot cell of their hearts. To eat dusty bread.