The Self Cannot Be Escaped,

Capitalism Arose And Took Off Its Pajamas. Another Day, Another Dollar. Each Man Is Valued At What He Will Bring In The Marketplace. Meaning Has Been Drained From Work And Assigned Instead To Remuneration.

Capitalism Places Every Man In Competition With His Fellows For A Share Of The Available Wealth. A Few People Accumulate Big Piles, But Most Do Not. The Sense Of Community Falls Victim To This Struggle.

I Think Writers Like Old Cities And Are Made Very Nervous By New Cities.

--why Are We Fighting Them? --they're Mad. We're Sane. --how Do We Know? --that We're Sane? --yes. --am I Sane? --to All Appearances. --and You, Do You Consider Yourself Sane? --i Do. --well, There You Have It. --but Don't They Also Consider Themselves Sane? --i Think They Know. Deep Down. That They're Not Sane. --how Must That Make Them Feel? --terrible, I Should Think. They Must Fight Ever More Fiercely, In Order To Deny What They Know To Be True. That They Are Not Sane.

The World Is Sagging, Snagging, Scaling, Spalling, Pilling, Pinging, Pitting, Warping, Checking, Fading, Chipping, Cracking, Yellowing, Leaking, Stalling, Shrinking, And In Dynamic Unbalance.