Someday It'll All Be Done By Machine.

All The Animals, The Plants, The Minerals, Even Other Kinds Of Men, Are Being Broken And Reassembled Every Day, To Preserve An Elite Few, Who Are The Loudest To Theorize On Freedom, But The Least Free Of All.

My Belief Is That "recluse" Is A Code Word Generated By Journalists... Meaning, "doesn't Like To Talk To Reporters."

What Are The Stars But Points In The Body Of God Where We Insert The Healing Needles Of Our Terror And Longing?

Time Is Never Wasted If You Remember To Bring Along Something To Read.

The Reality Is In This Head. Mine. I'm The Projector At The Planetarium, All The Closed Little Universe Visible In The Circle Of That Stage Is Coming Out Of My Mouth, Eyes, And Sometimes Other Orifices Also.