Socrates Wrote Nothing. Christ Wrote Nothing.

How Rarely Can Happiness Be Really Innocent And Not Triumphant, Not An Insult To The Deprived.

But Fantasy Kills Imagination, Pornography Is Death To Art.

Perhaps When Distant People On Other Planets Pick Up Some Wavelength Of Ours All They Hear Is A Continuous Scream.

Most Real Relationships Are Involuntary.

A Bad Review Is Even Less Important Than Whether It Is Raining In Patagonia.