Of course, the great writer had nothing to say about Twitter, because he died before its birth. What’s more, if he were alive today, I suspect he would be only vaguely aware of its existence.
But here is a bit of narration from p. 26 of my edition of Bend Sinister:
Not that the trip itself had been displeasing. Far from it. Although Krug, being as usual chary of squandering in idle conversation such experiences as might undergo unpredictable metamorphoses later on (if left to pupate quietly in the alluvium of the mind), had spoken little of his tour.
You see, if you are a thinker, if you are a writer (Krug, the protagonist, was a philosopher), you may lose something by sharing every passing thought (and this is something that Twitter seems to encourage in some people). Let at least some of those thoughts pupate. Your homely green caterpillar may be amusing, but we can do without it if it means a greater chance to gasp at your beautiful butterfly later on.