Of All Bores, The Worst Is The

Rocks, Like Louseworts And Snail Darters And Pupfish And 3rdworld Black, Lesbian, Feminist, Militant Poets, Have Rights, Too. Especially The Right To Exist.

Why The Critics, Like A Flock Of Ducks, Always Move In Perfect Unison: Their Authority With The Public Depends Upon An Appearance Of Unanimous Agreement. One Dissenting Voice Would Shatter The Whole Fragile Structure.

The Absurd Vanity Of Metaphysicians Who Like To Imagine That They Create The World By Thinking About It.

A Man Could Be A Lover And Defender Of The Wilderness Without Ever In His Lifetime Leaving The Boundaries Of Asphalt, Powerlines, And Right-angled Surfaces. We Need Wilderness Whether Or Not We Ever Set Foot In It. We Need A Refuge Even Though We May Never Need To Set Foot In It. We Need The Possibility Of Escape As Surely As We Need Hope; Without It The Life Of The Cities Would Drive All Men Into Crime Or Drugs Or Psychoanalysis.

The Ready Availability Of Suicide, Like Sex And Alcohol, Is One Of Life's Basic Consolations.