An excerpt of a review on the book "Money" by Martin Amis:
As I sat on my bed my cat slinking across, scooping down to inhale the remnant flakes of crumbled biscuits from off my lap, my hand perfunctorily stroking it’s back, my gaze turned and fell on a paperback, an old long forgotten novel on the bottom shelf of my bookcase nestled between a Michael Crichton Novel and a well-thumbed book of essays. Covered in years of accumulated dust and on the verge of falling apart, it stood smartly standing its ground against my gaze. Heaving my cat off my lap, a kind of fearless curiosity led me on to my feet, the novelty of exploring the bottom shelf, and the thought of uncovering a relic. I careful plucked the novel from the dingy obscurity it was living in, and sat back down. Brushing the cover lightly with my sleeve, I read the title “money” by Martin Amis...
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Excerpt from an essay on the meaning of life :
Are we temporary flames burning brightly for a few seconds in the vast continuum of time, or will we be immortalised with eternal youth, to bask in eternal sunshine the woes of the former life veiled from us because we have become kings.
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Aphorisms on art :
Art is an extraction of what perplexes us, it is a novelty that never wears.
Creation of art is to defeat the manipulation of silence, it is to expel the ghost a tyrant it is to breathe in your own substance.
Poetry is a wisdom dispossessed of a language.
The poet fails to mimic the moment of