They Give Birth Astride Of A Grave,

The Time Is Perhaps Not Altogether Too Green For The Vile Suggestion That Art Has Nothing To Do With Clarity, Does Not Dabble In The Clear And Does Not Make Clear, And More Than The Light Of Day (or Night) Makes The Subsolar, -lunar, And -stellar Excrement. Art Is The Sun, Moon, And Stars Of The Mind, The Whole Mind.

Where Am I, I Don't Know, I'll Never Know, In The Silence, In The Silence You Don't Know, You Must Go On, I Can't Go On, I'll Go On.

In The Landscape Of Extinction, Precision Is Next To Godliness.

How Do You Manage It, She Said, At Your Age? I Told Her I'd Been Saving Up For Her All My Life.

Watt Had Watched People Smile And Thought He Understood How It Was Done.