Hardship Makes The World Obscure.

The Question Of Dying Becomes A Wise Reminder. It Cures Us Of Our Innocence Of The Future.

To Be A Tourist Is To Escape Accountability. Errors And Failings Don't Cling To You The Way They Do Back Home. You're Able To Drift Across Continents And Languages, Suspending The Operation Of Sound Thought. Tourism Is The March Of Stupidity.

I Am Not Particularly Distressed By The State Of Fiction Or The Role Of The Writer. The More Marginal, Perhaps Ultimately The More Trenchant And Observant And Finally Necessary He'll Become.

We Commit Our Crimes At Night And Reveal Ourselves In The High Noon Of Studio Lights.

It Is All Falling Indelibly Into The Past.