For The Serious Artist Does

It's Funny How The Colors Of The Real World Only Seem Really Real When You Watch Them On A Screen.

But Where I Itty Now, O My Brothers, Is All On My Oddy Knocky, Where You Cannot Go. Tomorrow Is All Like Sweet Flowers And The Turning Vonny Earth And The Stars And The Old Luna Up There. ... And All That Cal.

As We Grow Older, The Memories Of Early Life Brighten, Those Of Maturity And Senescence Grow Dim And Confused.

It Is As Inhuman To Be Totally Good As It Is To Be Totally Evil.

Literature Is All, Or Mostly, About Sex.