Thousands Of Miles Of Wheat, Indifference, And

Beauty, Like Male Ballet Dancers, Makes Some Men Afraid.

Wherever I Travel I'm Too Late. The Orgy Has Moved Elsewhere.

Thousands Of Miles Of Wheat, Indifference, And Self- Apology.

I Had, Like Any Other Young Novelist, Started Out By Believing The Difficult Thing Was To Get Published And That, Once You Managed That, Well, Your Financial Problems Were Over. I Discovered, Like Any Other Serious Novelist, That Actually They Had Only Just Begun.

The Revolution Eats Its Own. Capitalism Re-creates Itself.