I Measure My Life In Sentences Pressed

Wars, Invented And Organized By The Highest Available Consciousnesses (do The Worms Go To War? Do The Fish? Do The Paramecia?), Are The Planet's Chief Source And Cause Of Torment.

I Can't Claim To Be Disenchanted "with The Current State Of Fiction" Because I Read So Little Of It. My Reading Is Mostly Drawn To History.

Women Who Write With An Overriding Consciousness That They Write As Women Are Engaged Not In Aspiration Toward Writing, But Chiefly In A Politics Of Sex.

What We Think We Are Surely Going To Do, We Don't Do; And What We Never Intended To Do, We May One Day Notice That We Have Done, And Done, And Done.

Comedy Springs From The Ludicrous; But The Ludicrous Is Stuck In The Muck Of Reality, Resolutely Hostile To What Is Impossible.