I Write To Save Someone's Life, Probably

And Now -- Now It Only Remains For Me To Light A Cigarette And Go Home. Dear God, Only Now Am I Remembering That People Die. Does That Include Me? Don't Forget, In The Meantime, That This Is The Season For Strawberries. Yes.

You Don't Understand Music: You Hear It. So Hear Me With Your Whole Body.

I' Is Merely One Of The World's Instantaneous Spasms.

To Think Is An Act. To Feel Is A Fact.

Even Great Men Are Only Truly Recognized And Honored Once They Are Dead. Why? Because Those Who Praise Them Need To Feel Themselves Somehow Superior To The Person Praised, They Need To Feel They Are Making Some Concession.