The More Violent The Body

If I Didn't Have Writing, I'd Be Running Down The Street Hurling Grenades In People's Faces.

I Am Working On A Book Urging The Beating To Death Of Baby Whales Using The Dead Bodies Of Baby Seals.

Irony Is The Attendant Of Hope And The Fuel Of Hope Is Innocence.

The Middles Cleave To Euphemisms Not Just Because They're An Aid In Avoiding Facts. They Like Them Also Because They Assist Their Social Yearnings Towards Pomposity. This Is Possible Because Most Euphemisms Permit The Speaker To Multiply Syllables, And The Middle Class Confuses Sheer Numerousness With Weight And Value.

I Find Nothing More Depressing Than Optimism.