I Don't Have Principles. I Have Nerves.

The Government, The State, They're Just Objects Of Jokes Rather Than Serious Consideration. I Can't Possibly Take Them Seriously.

What's Happening In Russia Is Devoid Of Autobiographical Interest For Me. Maybe It's Egocentric. Whatever It Is, Feel Free To Use It.

Cherish Your Human Connections: Your Relationships With Friends And Family. Even Your Super Weirdo Creep Cousin.

Language And, Presumably, Literature Are More Ancient And Inevitable, More Durable Than Any Form Of Social Organization. The Revulsion, Irony, Or Indifference Often Expressed By Literature Toward The State Is Essentially The Reaction Of The Permanent-better Yet, The Infinite-against The Temporary, Against The Finite.

If A Poet Has Any Obligation Toward Society, It Is To Write Well. Being In The Minority, He Has No Other Choice. Failing This Duty, He Sinks Into Oblivion. Society, On The Other Hand, Has No Obligation Toward The Poet. A Majority By Definition, Society Thinks Of Itself As Having Other Options Than Reading Verses, No Matter How Well Written. Its Failure To Do So Results In Its Sinking To That Level Of Locution At Which Society Falls Easy Prey To A Demagogue Or A Tyrant. This Is Society's Own Equivalent Of Oblivion.