Literature Bores Me, Especially Great Literature

Life, Friends, Is Boring. We Must Not Say So.

I Cry. Evil Dissolves, & Love, Like Foam; That Love. Prattle Of Children Powers Me Home, My Heart Claps Like The Swan's Under A Frenzy Of Who Love Me & Who Shine.

Ever To Confess You're Bored Means You Have No Inner Resources.

One Must Be Ruthless With One's Own Writing Or Someone Else Will Be.

That Is Our ‘pointed Task. Love & Die.