Who Among Us Is Not Thinking About

And I Sat There Getting Drunker And Drunker And More In Love And More In Love...and You Can Never Touch A Girl In The Same Way More Than Once, Twice, Or Another Number Of Times However Much You May Wish To Hold, Wrap, Or Otherwise Fix Her Hand, Or Look, Or Some Other Quality, Or Incident, Known To You Previously.

The Task Is Not So Much To Solve Problems As To Propose Questions.

What An Artist Does, Is Fail. Any Reading Of The Literature, (i Mean The Literature Of Artistic Creation), However Summary, Will Persuade You Instantly That The Paradigmatic Artistic Experience Is That Of Failure. The Actualization Fails To Meet, Equal, The Intuition. There Is Something "out There" Which Cannot Be Brought "here". This Is Standard. I Don't Mean Bad Artists, I Mean Good Artists. There Is No Such Thing As A "successful Artist" (except, Of Course, In Worldly Terms).

Endings Are Elusive, Middles Are Nowhere To Be Found, But Worst Of All Is To Begin, To Begin, To Begin.

I Believe That Because I Had Obtained A Wife Who Was Made Up Of Wife-signs (beauty, Charm, Softness, Perfume, Cookery) I Had Found Love.