I Have No Brakes On...analysis Is For

Life Shrinks Or Expands In Proportion To One's Courage.

I Gathered Poets Around Me And We All Wrote Beautiful Erotica. As We Were Condemned To Focus Only On Sensuality, We Had Violent Explosions Of Poetry. Writing Erotica Became A Road To Sainthood Rather Than To Debauchery.

Things Aren't The Way They Are, They're The Way You Are

The Obstacle Became His Alibi For Weakness.

Idealism Is The Death Of The Body And The Imagination. All But Freedom, Utter Freedom, Is Death