Look Past The Violence. There Is A

Every Sentence Has A Truth Waiting At The End Of It And The Writer Learns How To Know It When He Finally Gets There.

I Long For The Days Of Disorder. I Want Them Back, The Days When I Was Alive On The Earth, Rippling In The Quick Of My Skin, Heedless And Real. I Was Dumb-muscled And Angry And Real. This Is What I Long For, The Breach Of Peace, The Days Of Disarray When I Walked Real Streets And Did Things Slap-bang And Felt Angry And Ready All The Time, A Danger To Others And A Distant Mystery To Myself.

Out Of Some Persistent Sense Of Large-scale Ruin, We Kept Inventing Hope.

The Less Important You Are In An Office, The More They Expect The Happy Smile.

People Will Always Make Comparisons.