[from Not only Proust, July 7, 2009]
"rich catalog of publishing houses, one or two a week. Books by the thousands, tens of thousands, all recently published, and hundreds hundreds for each gender. choking hazard to nausea. Write simple sentences. Or just words. Read the dictionary. Literature is dead, long live the book trade "(January 27, 1984)
" The writer who nowadays try to write something different from what the great literature of the industrial consumer to do swallow it looks like a player is missing a leg, which with its attempt to register as a prosthesis sprinter in a race "(April 18, 1984)
Sándor Márai, The last gift. Diaries 1984-1989, Adelphi
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