Posing The Question: Does The God Of

Any Writer Who Pretends To A Disaffection For Recognition, I Think They're Being Duplicitous.

There Is Harlan Ellison The Human Being, Who Takes A Crap A Couple Of Times A Day, And Who Farts, And Who Eats Chicken Croquettes, If I Can Find Them. And Then There Is The Writer, This Writer-person, Who Is A Much Finer Person Than I. Much More Orderly, Much More Meaningful. Worthier, Than I [am].

There In The Midst Of The Amazon Jungle, Simon Haskell Has Cobbled Up For Himself A Replica Of An Art Deco Salon.

The Two Most Common Elements In The Universe Are Hydrogen And Stupidity.

The Ability To Dream Is All I Have To Give. That Is My Responsibility; That Is My Burden. And Even I Grow Tired.