Long Visits Don't Make For

There Is Nothing More Humanly Beautiful Than A Woman's Breasts. Nothing More Humanly Beautiful, Nothing More Humanly Mysterious Than Why Men Should Want To Caress, Over And Over Again, With Paintbrush Or Chisel Or Hand, These Oddly Curved Fatty Sacs, And Nothing More Humanly Endearing Than Our Complicity (i Mean The Complicity Of Women) In Their Obsession.

There Is First Of All The Problem Of The Opening, Namely, How To Get Us From Where We Are, Which Is, As Yet, Nowhere, To The Far Bank. It Is A Simple Bridging Problem, A Problem Of Knocking Together A Bridge. People Solve Such Problems Every Day. They Solve Them, And Having Solved Them Push On.

The End Of Confession Is To Tell The Truth To And For Oneself.

Let Me Say It Openly: We Are Surrounded By An Enterprise Of Degradation, Cruelty, And Killing Which Rivals Anything The Third Reich Was Capable Of, Indeed Dwarfs It, In That Ours Is An Enterprise Without End, Self-regenerating, Bringing Rabbits, Rats, Poultry, Livestock Ceaselessly Into The World For The Purpose Of Killing Them.

I Speak To The Broken Halves Of All Our Selves And Tell Them To Embrace, Loving The Worst In Us Equally With The Best.