Art Is So Wonderfully Irrational, Exuberantly Pointless,

As A Child I Was A Great Liar. Fortunately My Mother Liked My Lies. I Promised Her Marvelous Things.

The Human Head Is Bigger Than The Globe. It Conceives Itself As Containing More. It Can Think And Rethink Itself And Ourselves From Any Desired Point Outside The Gravitational Pull Of The Earth. It Starts By Writing One Thing And Later Reads Itself As Something Else. The Human Head Is Monstrous.

There Must Be Reasons Why We Men Are So Hipped On Breasts As If We'd All Been Weaned Too Soon.

I Have Found That Words That Are Loaded With Pathos And Create A Seductive Euphoria Are Apt To Promote Nonsense.

Translation Is That Which Transforms Everything So That Nothing Changes.