To Paraphrase Several Sages: Nobody Can Think

Nature In America Has Always Been Suspect, On The Defensive, Cannibalized By Progress. In America, Every Specimen Becomes A Relic.

On The Level Of Simple Sensation And Mood, Making Love Surely Resembles An Epileptic Fit At Least As Much As, If Not More Than, It Does Eating A Meal Or Conversing With Someone.

Interpretation Is The Revenge Of The Intellectual Upon Art.

The Danger, When Not Too Dangerous, Fascinate.

I Envy Paranoids; They Actually Feel People Are Paying Attention To Them.