Still, When All Is Said, Somewhere One

Norman Mailer Thinks William Burroughs Is A Genius, Which I Think Is Ludicrous Beyond Words. I Don't Think William Burroughs Has An Ounce Of Talent.

And In This Moment, Like A Swift Intake Of Breath, The Rain Came.

The Feeble-minded, The Neurotic, The Criminal, Perhaps, Also, The Artist, Have Unpredictability And Perverted Innocence In Common.

There Is Nobody In The World That You Can't Get If You Really Concentrate On It, If You Really Want Them. You've Got To Want It To The Exclusion Of Everything Else.

In My Garden, After A Rainfall, You Can Faintly, Yes, Hear The Breaking Of New Blooms.