The Kind Of Power Mothers Have Is

His Wedding Gift, Clasped Round My Throat. A Choker Of Rubies, Two Inches Wide, Like An Extraordinarily Precious Slit Throat.

Cats Of All Kinds Weave In And Out Of The Text; Burroughs Has Clearly Taken To Them In A Big Way In His Old Age And Seems Torn Between A Fear They Will Betray Him Into Sentimentality And A Resigned Acceptance That A Man Can't Be Ironic All The Time.

There Are Lots Of Things That You Can Brush Under The Carpet About Yourself Until You're Faced With Somebody Whose Needs Won't Be Put Off.

Is Not This World An Illusion? And Yet It Fools Everybody.

A Day Without An Argument Is Like An Egg Without Salt.