No Book Or Poem Is Ever Finished,

There Were Reprints Of American Editorials. Liberals Saw It As A Resurgence Of Social Protest And Decried The Discrimination, Poverty, And Hunger That Had Provoked It. Conservative Columnists Acidly Pointed Out That Hungry People Don't Steal Stereo Systems First And Called For A Crackdown In Law Enforcement. All Of The Reasoned Editorials Sounded Hollow In Light Of The Perverse Randomness Of The Event. It Was As If Only A Thin Wall Of Electric Lighting Protected The Great Cities Of The World From Total Barbarism.

Barbarians, We Call Them, While All The While We Timidly Cling To Our Web Like Visigoths Crouching In The Ruins Of Rome's Faded Glory And Proclaim Ourselves Civilized.

The Sum Of The Crowd's Iq Was Far Below That Of Its Most Modest Single Member. Mobs Have Passions, Not Brains.

Artists Recognize Other Artists As Soon As The Pencil Begins To Move.

I Know What Cancer Was. How Is It Like Humankind?" Sek Hardeen's Perfectly Modulated, Softly Accented Tones Showed A Hint Of Agitation. "we Have Spread Out Through The Galaxy Like Cancer Cells Through A Living Body, Duré. We Multiply Without Thought To The Countless Life Forms That Must Die Or Be Pushed Aside So That We May Breed And Flourish. We Eradicate Competing Forms Of Intelligent Life.