How Some Of The Writers I Come

It Is The Bliss Of Childhood That We Are Being Warped Most When We Know It The Least.

If It Is Not Beautiful For Someone, It Does Not Exist.

I Mean Why Should Somebody Go Steal And Break The Law To Get All They Can When There's Always Some Law Where You Can Be Legal And Get It All Anyway!

There Is Nothing More Distressing Or Tiresome Than A Writer Standing In Front Of An Audience And Reading His Work.

Tragedy Was Foresworn, In Ritual Denial Of The Ripe Knowledge That We Are Drawing Away From One Another, That We Share Only One Thing, Share The Fear Of Belonging To Another, Or To Others, Or To God; Love Or Money, Tender Equated In Advertising And The World, Where Only Money Is Currency, And Under Dead Trees And Brittle Ornaments Prehensile Hands Exchange Forgeries Of What The Heart Dare Not Surrender.