Nicotine And Alcohol Embraced In

The First Horror Is There's Horror. The Second Is You Accommodate It.

You Can't Blame Me. I Mean That Literally. You're Incapable Of Blaming Me. You're Human. Being Human Is Choosing Freedom Over Imprisonment, Autonomy Over Dependency, Liberty Over Servitude. You Can't Blame Me Because You Know (come On, Man, You've Always Known) That The Idea Of Spending Eternity With Nothing To Do Except Praise God Is Utterly Unappealing. You'd Be Catatonic After An Hour. Heaven's A Swiz Because To Get In You Have To Leave Yourself Outside. You Can't Blame Me Because -- Now Do Please Be Honest With Yourself For Once -- You'd Have Left, Too.

Your Ideal Possession Candidate's A Thirteen-year-old Recently Orphaned Schizophrenic Girl Three Days Away From Her Period On Her Way To See The Shrink With Whom She's Romantically Besotted.

What Interests Me Is Love, Sex, Death, Cruelty, Compassion And The Desire For Meaning In An Apparently Godless Universe. In Other Words The Human Condition.

Bliss Defies Description, Obviously, Since It Annihilates You, Since You're Not There To Experience It. You Get The Lead-up And The Come-down, Never The Zenith.