Better A Cruel Truth Than

In A Nation Of Sheep, One Brave Man Forms A Majority.

Whenever I Read _time_ Or _newsweek_ Or Such Magazines, I Wash My Hands Afterward. But How To Wash Off The Small But Odious Stain Such Reading Leaves On The Mind?

To Meet God Or Medusa Face To Face, Even If It Means Risking Everything Human In Myself. I Dream Of A Hard And Brutal Mysticism In Which The Naked Self Merges With The Nonhuman World And Yet Somehow Survives Still Intact Individual, Separate. Paradox And Bedrock.

Reincarnation? There Is Such A Thing. What Could Be More Mozartian Than The Nutcracker Suite?

A House Built On Greed Cannot Long Endure.