Our Fingernails Match Our Toenails,

He Is, I Think, Already Pondering A Magisterial Project: That Of Buggering The English Language, The Ultimate Revenge Of The Colonialised.

I See Her As A Series Of Marvellous Shapes Formed At Random In The Kaleidoscope Of Desire.

Cats Of All Kinds Weave In And Out Of The Text; Burroughs Has Clearly Taken To Them In A Big Way In His Old Age And Seems Torn Between A Fear They Will Betray Him Into Sentimentality And A Resigned Acceptance That A Man Can't Be Ironic All The Time.

Anticipation Is The Greater Part Of Pleasure.

A Broken Heart Is Never A Tragedy. Only Untimely Death Is A Tragedy.