Everything Is Out There If You Know

It Was Irritating To Have One's Physical Shortcomings Pointed Out Quite So Plainly Twice In One Evening, Once By A Beautiful Girl And Once By A Dying Badger.

New Technology Is Useful, But It's Inefficient And Ugly; It Knows It'll Be Obsolete By Lunchtime Tomorrow, So It Has No Incentive To Be Anything Else

There Is That Within A Man That Drives Him Ever Onwards, Just As The Power Of The Seasons Drives The Roots Of Flowers Into The Hard Earth; And So He Decided, Against His Better Judgment, To Open His Eyes And Find Out What Was Going To Happen To Him Next.

Poetry Is One Of The Few Nasty Childhood Habits I've Managed To Grow Out Of

After All, What Else Is Scientific Enquiry Of Any Sort Other Than A Controlled Version Of Banging One's Head Against The Universe Until Something Gives?