What A Joy It Is To Dance

It's Every Woman's Tragedy, That, After A Certain Age, She Looks Like A Female Impersonator. Mind You, We've Known Some Lovely Female Impersonators, In Our Time.

The Kind Of Power Mothers Have Is Enormous.

Not For Moorcock The Painful, Infrequent Excretion Of Dry Little Novels Like So Many Rabbit Pellets; His Is The Grand, Messy Fluxitself, In All Its Heroic Vulgarity, Its Unquenchable Optimism, Its Enthusiasm For The Inexhaustible Variousness Of Things.

This Lack Of Imagination Gives His Heroism To The Hero.

The One-eyed Man Will Be King In The Country Of The Blind Only If He Arrives There In Full Possession Of His Partial Faculties--that Is, Providing He Is Perfectly Aware Of The Precise Nature Of Sight And Does Not Confuse It With Second Sightnor With Madness.