If You Can Hit A Guy Once,

The Pest, In A Sense, Is A Very Superior Being To Us: He Knows Where To Find Us And How--usually In The Bath Or In Sexual Intercourse Or Asleep.

We Don’t Even Ask Happiness, Just A Little Less Pain.

When A Writer Is Swayed With His Fame And His Fortune, You Can Float Him Down The River With The Turds.

People Just Weren't Interesting. Maybe They Weren't Supposed To Be. But Animals, Birds, Even Insects Were. I Couldn't Understand It.

The Street To My Left Was Backed Up With Traffic And I Watched The People Waiting Patiently In The Cars. There Was Almost Always A Man And A Women, Staring Straight Ahead, Not Talking. It Was, Finally, For Everyone, A Matter Of Waiting. You Waited And You Waited- For The Hospital, The Doctor, The Plumber, The Madhouse, The Jail, Papa Death Himself. First The Signal Red, Then The Signal Was Green. The Citizens Of The World Ate Food And Watched T.v. And Worried About Their Jobs Or Lack Of The Same, While They Waited.