I Don't Hate Women, But

If Only Gravity Were Working, The Path Would Be Symmetrical, It Is The Wind Resistance That Produces The Tragic Curve.

And So I Ask, "would You Agree That Sex Is Where Philosophy Begins?" But God, Who Is The Oldest Of The Philosophers, Answers In His Weary Cryptic Way, "rather Think Of Sex As Time, And Time As The Connection Of New Circuits.

America Is A Hurricane, And The Only People Who Do Not Hear The Sound Are Those Fortunate If Incredibly Stupid And Smug White Protestants Who Live In The Center, In The Serene Eye Of The Big Wind.

The Sickness Of Our Times For Me Has Been Just This Damn Thing That Everything Has Been Getting Smaller And Smaller And Less And Less Important, That The Romantic Spirit Has Dried Up, That There Is No Shame Today. We're All Getting So Mean And Small And Petty And Ridiculous, And We All Live Under The Threat Of Extermination.

In Such Places As Greenwich Village, A Menage-a-trois Was Completed- The Bohemian And The Juvenile Delinquent Came Face-to-face With The Negro, And The Hipster Was A Fact In American Life.