I Think I'm Less The Writer Than

That's One Of The Many Things I Hate About Life, That It's A Hideously Cliched Business.

Perhaps All Of Life Is No More Than A Long Preparation For The Leaving Of It.

The White May Blossom Swooned Slowly Into The Open Mouth Of The Grave.

I'm Full Of Self-doubt. I Doubt Everything I Do. Everything I Do Is A Failure.

If I Was Asked To Say What Was The Greatest Invention Of Human Beings, I Would Say The Sentence.