Love Is Made By Two People, In

What On Earth Is Modern Exegesis Up To? Oh, Little Lazy One! Some Red Wine And Up! Off You Go, Brandishing Your Fork, Stripped Of Ophelia's Useless Ornaments, Fire In Your Large Nostrils, Out To Rake The Muck Of Metaphors.

I Demand That My Books Be Judged With Utmost Severity, By Knowledgeable People Who Know The Rules Of Grammar And Of Logic, And Who Will Seek Beneath The Footsteps Of My Commas The Lice Of My Thought In The Head Of My Style.

Love Is Made By Two People, In Different Kinds Of Solitude. It Can Be In A Crowd, But In An Oblivious Crowd.

Language Was Not Given To Man: He Seized It.

It Sometimes Happens That Pleasure Blows Anywhere It Damn Well Chooses.