There Is No Pain On This Earth

The Mystery Lies In The Here And Now. The Mystery Is: What Is One To Do With Oneself? As You Get Older You Begin To Realize The Trick Time Is Playing, And That Unless You Do Something About It, The Passage Of Time Is Nothing But The Encroachment Of The Horrible Banality Of The Past On The Pure Future. The Past Devours The Future Like A Tape Recorder, Converting Pure Possibility Into Banality. The Present Is The Tape Head, The Mouth Of Time. Then Where Is The Mystery And Why Bother Kicking Through The Ashes? Because There Is A Clue In The Past.

In This World Goodness Is Destined To Be Defeated. But A Man Must Go Down Fighting. That Is The Victory. To Do Anything Less Is To Be Less Than A Man.

Why Has The South Produced So Many Good Writers? Because We Got Beat.

Free People Have A Serious Problem With Place, Being In A Place, Using Up A Place, Deciding Which New Place To Rotate To. Americans Ricochet Around The United States Like Billiard Balls.

Nothing Remains But Desire, And Desire Comes Howling Down Elysian Fields Like A Mistral.