Memory Whispers Someplace In That Jumbled Machinery.

Plant A Garden In Which Strange Plants Grow And Mysteries Bloom.

Luckily, I Remembered Something Malcolm Cowley Had Taught Us At Stanford - Perhaps The Most Important Lesson A Writing Class (not A Writer, Understand, But A Class) Can Ever Learn. 'be Gentle With One Another's Efforts,' He Often Admonished Us. 'be Kind And Considerate With Your Criticism. Always Remember That It's Just As Hard To Write A Bad Book As It Is To Write A Good Book.'

Lsd Lets You In On Something. When You're Tripping, The Idea Of Race Disappears; The Idea Of Sex Disappears; You Don't Even Know What Species You Are Sometimes. And I Don't Know Of Anybody Who Hasn't Come Back From That Being More Humane, More Thoughtful, More Understanding.

I Sometimes Have These Spells Of Compulsive Truth. But As Lady Macbeth Would Say, "the Fit Is Momentary."

Alongside The Statement About One Man's Poison Being Another Man's High, One Might As Well Add That One Man's Saint Can Be Another Man's Sore And One Man's Hero Can Turn Out To Be That Man's Biggest Hangup.