Promiscuity Turns Sex Into A Sport, Like

Blonds Look Angelic, But Can (oh, Happy!) Be Fleshy As Well.

Looking Backward At What Has Been Lost, I Feel Sad, Then Indifferent, And At Last Relieved.

The Critic Roams Through Culture, Looking For Prey.

Aphorisms Are Not True Or False, But Pointed Or Flat.

Self-pity Dries Up Our Sympathy For Others.