Nobody Knew How To Be

Choosing Is Existence. To The Extent That You Don't Choose, You Don't Exist.

Though Life's Tuition Is Always Ruinous, Inexorably We Learn.

It Is Often Pleasant To Stone A Martyr, No Matter How Much We May Admire Him.

A Curious Thing About Written Literature: It Is About Four Thousand Years Old, But We Have No Way Of Knowing Whether Four Thousand Years Constitutes Senility Or The Maiden Blush Of Youth.

Those Rituals Of Getting Ready To Write Produce A Kind Of Trance State.