No One Needs A First Edition. Whoever

But There Are Times In Life When A Door Opens And You Are Offered A Glimpse Of The Light On The Water, And You Know That If You Don't Take It, That Door Slams Shut, And Maybe Forever. Maybe You Fool Yourself Into Thinking That You Had A Choice At All; Maybe You Were Always Going To Say Yes. Maybe Refusing Was No More A Choice Than Is Holding Your Breath. You Were Always Going To Breathe. You Were Always Going To Say Yes.

Rationally Speaking, Blaming One's Behavior On Alcohol Or Drugs Is Like Blaming The Ladder By Which You Descended Into A Pit, Or The Staircase That Took You Down To A Cellar, For What You Found There.

The Overintellectualization Of Surrealism Can Be A Bromide. A Dream Interpreted Is A Deflated Dream.

It's Just That To A Lot Of British People George Bush Represents The Worst Of All Things American. He's The Right-wing Christian Crusader, The Toxic Texan Who Refused Kyoto, The Poll-cheat Eel Who Undermined Democracy On The Back Of Something Called 'chads,' A Notion We've Never Entirely Grasped.

What I Mean Is This: You Meet Someone, You Think About Them. You're Already Changing Because Of The Way You Think About Them. You Meet Them Again, You Think About Them Some More, You're Changing Again. And On It Goes. You Are Changing Right Now. Before My Eyes.