Nobody Knew How To Be What They

The Genie Declared That In His Time And Place There Were Scientists Of The Passions Who Maintained That Language Itself, On The One Hand, Originated In 'infantile Pregenital Erotic Exuberance, Polymorphously Perverse,' And That Conscious Attention, On The Other, Was A 'libidinal Hypercathexis' - By Which Magic Phrases They Seemed To Mean That Writing And Reading, Or Telling And Listening, Were Literally Ways Of Making Love.

Nothing Is Loathsomer Than The Self-loathing Of A Self One Loathes.

It Is Often Pleasant To Stone A Martyr, No Matter How Much We May Admire Him.

You’re Probably Wasting Time On Things Like Eating And Sleeping. Cease That, And Read All Of Philosophy And All Of Literature. Also Art. Plus Politics And A Few Other Things. The History Of Everything.

In Art As In Lovemaking, Heartfelt Ineptitude Has Its Appeal And So Does Heartless Skill, But What You Want Is Passionate Virtuosity.