To Say More, Is To

I Think Love And Sex Are Separate And Only Vaguely Similar. Like The Word Bear And The Word Bare. You Can Get In Trouble Mistaking One For The Other.

I Hate Being Wrong, But I Love It When I'm Set Straight.

Thank Your Readers And The Critics Who Praise You, And Then Ignore Them. Write For The Most Intelligent, Wittiest, Wisest Audience In The Universe: Write To Please Yourself.

We Walked For Some Time, And Grew To Know Each Other, As Best As We'd Allow. These Are Some Of The High Points. They Lack Continuity. I Don't Apologize. I Merely Pointed It Out, Adding With Some Truth, I Feel, That Most Liaisons Lack Continuity. We Find Ourselves In Odd Places At Various Times, And For A Brief Span We Link Our Lives To Others And Then, Our Time Elapsed, We Move Apart. Through A Haze Of Pain Occasionally, Usually Through A Veil Of Memory That Clings, Then Passes, Sometimes As Though We Have Never Touched.

Everybody Has Opinions: I Have Them, You Have Them. And We Are All Told From The Moment We Open Our Eyes, That Everyone Is Entitled To His Or Her Opinion. Well, That's Horsepuckey, Of Course. We Are Not Entitled To Our Opinions; We Are Entitled To Our Informed Opinions. Without Research, Without Background, Without Understanding, It's Nothing. It's Just Bibble-babble. It's Like A Fart In A Wind Tunnel, Folks.