Change Often Makes Accepted Customs Into Crimes.

Young Poets Bewail The Passing Of Love; Old Poets, The Passing Of Time. There Is Surprisingly Little Difference.

Denial Of One Appetite Sharpens The Others.

The Aphorism: A Platitude That Swerves, Or Slides All The Way Around.

Understanding Replaces Imaginary Fears With Real Ones.

I Cling To Depression, Thinking It A Form Of Truth.