Fear And Hatred Do Not Seem To

You Fall Out Of Your Mother's Womb, You Crawl Across Open Country Under Fire, And Drop Into Your Grave.

That's The Only Sense In Which I've Been Lucky: I Have The Kind Of Face To Which Cosmetics Could Be Applied.

In Manhattan, When You're Out Of The Front Door, You're On, And You Have To Be Ready To Smile And Speak To People.

I Don't Really Act. I Say The Words The Way I Would Say Them If I Meant Them.

All This Cut-price Transcendentalism Does Not Prevent California From Being A Startlingly Physical State. This Becomes Most Obvious Where Los Angeles Saunters Down To The Sea. The Region Is Called Venice.