Death. It Doesn't Have To

The Way I See It, Being Dead Is Not Terribly Far Off From Being On A Cruise Ship. Most Of Your Time Is Spent Lying On Your Back. The Brain Has Shut Down. The Flesh Begins To Soften. Nothing Much New Happens, And Nothing Is Expected Of You.

It Is The Mind That Speaks A Woman's Heart, Not The Vaginal Walls.

It Would Be Especially Comforting To Believe That I Have The Answer To The Question, What Happens When We Die? Does The Light Just Go Out And That's That-the Million-year Nap? Or Will Some Part Of My Personality, My Me-ness, Persist? What Will That Feel Like? What Will I Do All Day? Is There A Place To Plug In My Laptop?

Sexual Desire Is A State Not Unlike Hunger.

The Broader The Topic, The Easier It Is, Not Only To Fill A Book, But To Set The Bar Pretty High For Really Great Stuff.