My Hole Is Warm And Full Of

The Blues Is An Impulse To Keep The Painful Details And Episodes Of A Brutal Experience Alive In One's Aching Consciousness, To Finger Its Jagged Grain, And To Transcend It, Not By The Consolation Of Philosophy But By Squeezing From It A Near-tragic, Near-comic Lyricism. As A Form, The Blues Is An Autobiographical Chronicle Of Personal Catastrophe Expressed Lyrically.

To Hell With Being Ashamed Of What You Liked.

The Thing To Do Is To Exploit The Meaning Of The Life You Have.

We Don't All Dig Shakespeare Uniformly, Or Even 'little Red Riding Hood.' The Understanding Of Art Depends Finally Upon One's Willingness To Extend One's Humanity And One's Knowledge Of Human Life.

Whence All This Passion Toward Conformity Anyway? – Diversity Is The Word. Let Man Keep His Many Parts And You'll Have No Tyrant States . Why, If They Follow This Conformity Business They'll End Up By Forcing Me, An Invisible Man, To Become White, Which Is Not A Color But The Lack Of One. Must I Strive Toward Colorlessness? But Seriously, And Without Snobbery, Think Of What The World Would Lose If That Should Happen. America Is Woven Of Many Strands. I Would Recognize Them And Let It So Remain.