Life Is A Message Scribbled In The

All My Stories Are Webs Of Style And None Seems At First Blush To Contain Much Kinetic Matter.

And She Was Mine, She Was Mine, The Key Was In My Fist, My Fist Was In My Pocket, She Was Mine.

My Loathings Are Simple: Stupidity, Oppression, Crime, Cruelty, Soft Music.

Of All My Russian Books, The Defense Contains And Diffuses The Greatest 'warmth' Which May Seem Odd Seeing How Supremely Abstract Chess Is Supposed To Be

Nymphets Do Not Occur In Polar Regions.