My Mother Refused To Let

A Novel Is What You Call Something That Won't Sell If You Call It Poems Or Short Stories.

Hatred Strikes Me As One Of The Few Signs Of Life Remaining In The World. This Is Another Thing About The World Which Is Upsidedown: All The Friendly And Likable People Seem Dead To Me; Only The Haters Seem Alive.

Life Is Fits And Starts, Mostly Fits.

Where There Is Chance Of Gain, There Is Also Chance Of Loss. Whenever One Courts Great Happiness, One Also Risks Malaise.

To Become Aware Of The Possibility Of The Search Is To Be Onto Something.