The More One Is Hated,

Life Is Filigree Work. What Is Written Clearly Is Not Worth Much, It's The Transparency That Counts.

The Foreground In A Picture Is Always Unattractive... Art Demands That The Interest Of The Canvas Should Be Placed In The Far Distance, Where Lies Take Refuge, Those Dreams Which Blossom Out Of Fact And Are Man's Only Love.

Man Hardly Comes In More Than Two Varieties, Wherever He Is, Whatever He Does: Workers And Pimps ... They're Either One Or The Other! ... And Inventors, The Worst Kind Of Jobholder! ... They Stand Condemned! ... The Writer Who Doesn't Pimp Along, Peacefully Plagiarizing, Who Doesn't Pump Out The Pop Stuff, He's Had It! ... Everybody Hates Him!

I'd Seen Too Many Troubling Things To Be Easy In My Mind. I Knew Too Much And Not Enough. I'd Better Go Out, I Said To Myself, I'd Better Go Out Again.

All In All, Death Is Something Like Marriage.