I Don't Like People," Said Velvet. "...

There May Be Wonder In Money, But, Dear God, There Is Money In Wonder.

The Press Blew, The Public Stared, Hands Flew Out Like A Million Little Fishes After Bread.

From Birth To Death We Are Alone.

One's Palate Is Reborn Every Morning!

The Theatre Is A Gross Art, Built In Sweeps And Over-emphasis. Compromise Is Its Second Name.