Even If You Got Rid Of Paper,

What Could Be Safer Than The Bus Center With Its Lamps And Wheels?

The Greatest Pleasure Is Not - Say - Sex Or Geometry. It Is Just Understanding. And If You Can Get People To Understand Their Own Humanity - Well, That's The Job Of The Writer.

I Will Tell You What Man Is. He Is A Freak, An Ejected Foetus Robbed Of His Natural Development, Thrown Out Into The World With A Naked Covering Of Parchment, With Too Little Room For His Teeth And A Soft Bulging Skull Like A Bubble. But Nature Stirs A Pudding There.

My Yesterdays Walk With Me. They Keep Step, They Are Gray Faces That Peer Over My Shoulder.

Sleep Is When All The Unsorted Stuff Comes Flying Out As From A Dustbin Upset In A High Wind.