The Unconscious Mind Has A Habit Of

A Character, To Be Acceptable As More Than A Chess Piece, Has To Be Ignorant Of The Future, Unsure About The Past, And Not At All Sure Of What He's Supposed To Be Doing.

In Two Thousand Years All Our Generals And Politicians May Be Forgotten, But Einstein And Madame Curie And Bernard Shaw And Stravinsky Will Keep The Memory Of Our Age Alive.

Suddenly, I Viddied What I Had To Do, And What I Had Wanted To Do, And That Was To Do Myself In; To Snuff It, To Blast Off For Ever Out Of This Wicked, Cruel World. One Moment Of Pain Perhaps And, Then, Sleep Forever, And Ever And Ever.

For The Serious Artist Does Not Satisfy Needs

Alex Like Groweth Up, Oh Yes.