Like Dreams, Statistics Are A Form Of

At Male Strip Shows, It Is Still The Women That We Watch, The Audience Of Women And Their Eager Faces. They Are More Obscene Than If They Were Dancing Naked Themselves.

There Is No Human Reason To Be Here, Except For The Sheer Ecstasy Of Being Crowded Together.

In Days Gone By, We Were Afraid Of Dying In Dishonor Or A State Of Sin. Nowadays, We Are Afraid Of Dying Fools. Now The Fact Is That There Is No Extreme Unction To Absolve Us Of Foolishness. We Endure It Here On Earth As Subjective Eternity.

Depression Moods Lead, Almost Invariably, To Accidents. But, When They Occur, Our Mood Changes Again, Since The Accident Shows We Can Draw The World In Our Wake, And That We Still Retain Some Degree Of Power Even When Our Spirits Are Low. A Series Of Accidents Creates A Positively Light-hearted State, Out Of Consideration For This Strange Power.

Every Photographed Object Is Merely The Trace Left Behind By The Disappearance Of All The Rest. It Is An Almost Perfect Crime, An Almost Total Resolution Of The World, Which Merely Leave The Illusion Of A Particular Object Shining Forth, The Image Of Which Then Becomes An Impenetrable Enigma.