Fiction is a kind of compassion-generating machine that saves us from sloth. Is life kind or cruel? Yes Literature answers. Are people good or bad? You bet says Literature. But unlike other systems of knowing Literature declines to eradicate one truth in favor of another.
Anyone can tell the truth but only very few of us can make epigrams.
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I have come to believe that the whole world is an enigma a harmless enigma that is made terrible by our own mad attempt to interpret it as though it had an underlying truth.
