God Made Food; The Devil The Cooks.

I've Been Working Hard On [ulysses] All Day," Said Joyce. Does That Mean That You Have Written A Great Deal?" I Said. Two Sentences," Said Joyce. I Looked Sideways But Joyce Was Not Smiling. I Thought Of [french Novelist Gustave] Flaubert. "you've Been Seeking The Mot Juste?" I Said. No," Said Joyce. "i Have The Words Already. What I Am Seeking Is The Perfect Order Of Words In The Sentence.

The Voices Blend And Fuse In Clouded Silence: Silence That Is Infinite Of Space: And Swiftly, Silently The Sound Is Wafted Over Regions Of Cycles Of Cycles Of Generations That Have Lived.

The Incompatibility Of Aquacity With The Erratic Originality Of Genius.

Your Mind Will Give Back To You Exactly What You Put Into It.

What Kind Of Liberation Would That Be To Forsake An Absurdity Which Is Logical And Coherent And To Embrace One Which Is Illogical And Incoherent?