I'm Too Conceited For Therapy.

This Is Love: You Stop Bothering About The Universal, The General, Get Sucked Instead Into The Local And Particular: When Will I See Her Again? What Shall We Do Today? Do You Like These Shoes? Theory And Reflection Are Delicate Old Uncles Bustled Out Of The Way By The Boisterous Nephews Action And Desire. Themes Evaporate, Only Plot Remains.

One Knows One's Madnesses, By And Large. By And Large The Knowledge Is Vacuous. The Notion Of Naming The Beast To Conquer It Is The Idiot Optimism Of Psychotherapy.

No Artist Knows Everything... But Since Every Artist Knows More Than He Can Tell, All Art Is Lying By Omission.

For You, My Darlings, Freedom To Do What You Like Is The Discovery Of How Unlikable What You Like To Do Makes You. Not That That Stops You Doing What You Like, Since You Like Doing What You Like More Than You Like Liking What You Do... [lucifer]

I'm In Love, Truly, Madly, Deeply In Love With Perception.