We Already Have The Statistics For The

If Jesus Had Been A Hunchback, They Could Hardly Have Nailed Him To The Cross.

I Shall Speak Of How Melancholy And Utopia Preclude One Another. How They Fertilize One Another... Of The Revulsion That Follows One Insight And Precedes The Next... Of Superabundance And Surfeit. Of Stasis In Progress. And Of Myself, For Whom Melancholy And Utopia Are Heads And Tails Of The Same Coin.

I Did Not Volunteer For The Waffen Ss, But Was, As Were Thousands Of My Year Group, Conscripted. I Did Not Then Know As A 17-year-old That It Was A Criminal Unit. I Thought It Was An Elite Unit.

The Human Head Is Bigger Than The Globe. It Conceives Itself As Containing More. It Can Think And Rethink Itself And Ourselves From Any Desired Point Outside The Gravitational Pull Of The Earth. It Starts By Writing One Thing And Later Reads Itself As Something Else. The Human Head Is Monstrous.

An Empty Bus Hurtles Through The Starry Night Perhaps The Driver Is Singing And Happy Because He Sings.