I revolted from sentimentality, less because it was false than because it was cruel.
What was time itself but the bloom, the sheath enfolding experience? Within time, and with time alone, there was life - the gleam, the quiver, the heartbeat, the immeasurable joy and anguish of being ...
irony is an indispensable ingredient of the critical vision; it is the safest antidote to sentimental decay.