It Was Autumn, The Springtime Of Death.

Bland Writing - Timid, Antiseptic, Vanilla Writing - Is Nearly As Unhealthy As The Brutal And Dark. Instead Of Sipping, Say, Elixir, Nectar, Tequila, Or Champagne, The Reader Is Invited To Slurp Lumpy Milk Or Choke On The Author's Dust Bunnies.

Actually, There Are Countless Ways To Live Upon This Tremorous Sphere In Mirth And Good Health, And Probably Only One Way - The Industrial, Urbanized, Herding Way - To Live Here Stupidly, And Man Has Hit Upon That One Way.

In The Haunted House Of Life, Art Is The Only Stair That Doesn't Creak.

Approfondement Is A French Word That Means 'playing Easily In The Deep.'

There Are Many Things Worth Living For, A Few Things Worth Dying For, And Nothing Worth Killing For.