The Only Effort Worth Making

Illness Reduces Man To His Basic State: A Cloaca In Which The Chemical Processes Continue. The Meaningless Hegemony Of The Involuntary.

If People And Their Manner Of Living Were Alike Everywhere, There Would Not Be Much Point In Moving From One Place To Another.

The Sky Hides The Night Behind It And Shelters The People Beneath From The Horror That Lies Above.

We've Never Managed, Either One Of Us, To Get All The Way Into Life. We're Hanging On To The Outside For All We're Worth, Convinced We're Going To Fall Off At The Next Bump.

Publishers Are Thieves, They Are On The Other Side Of The Barricade.