I Suppose The Word "unbearable" Is A

I'm An American. We're A People Diseased With Progress.

There Is No God And That's His Only Commandment.

Every Now And Then Life Sold You An Illusion Of Design. A Coincidence, A Parallel, A Sledgehammer Symbol. The Goods Were Always Faulty. You Forked Over The Cash Only To Discover They'd Fallen Apart By The Time You Got Home. But Life Kept At It. Life Couldn't Help It. Life Was A Compulsive Salesman.

Pain Revealed The Paltry Dimensions Of Love. The Paltry Dimensions Of Everything, In Fact, Except Pain.

No Artist Knows Everything... But Since Every Artist Knows More Than He Can Tell, All Art Is Lying By Omission.