From 1968 On, I Was

There Is No Articulate Resonance. The Common Problem, I Suppose, Is To Have More To Say Than Vocabulary And Syntax Can Bear. That Is Why I Am Hunting In These Desiccated Streets. The Smoke Hides The Sky's Variety, Stains Consciousness, Covers The Holocaust With Something Safe And Insubstantial. It Protects From Greater Flame. It Indicates Fire, But Obscures The Source. This Is Not A Useful City. Very Little Here Approaches Any Eidolon Of The Beautiful.

Power Is All. Another Falsification; I Do Not Tell How I Gain Or Maintain It. I Only Record The Ginger Stroll Through The Vaguely Fetid Garden Of Its Rewards.

How We Treat Our Invalids - Our Mad, Our Physically Or Mentally Compromised Family Members - Does Tell You Something About Who We Are Politically, Historically, Culturally.

Linguistics Is Very Much A Science. It's A Human Science, One Of The Human Sciences. And It's One Of The More Interesting Human Sciences.

It's Frightening For One Artist To See Another One, Any Other One Turn Away From Art.