You're A Beautiful Drunk, Daughter. But You're

I Am Too Nervous To Eat Pie.

You're...writing For Other Writers To An Extent-the Dead Writers Whose Work You Admire, As Well As The Living Writers You Like To Read.

You're A Beautiful Drunk, Daughter. But You're A Drunk.

A Man Can Go Along Obeying All The Rules And Then It Don't Matter A Damn Anymore.

There Is No God, And Conversation Is A Dying Art.