To Think Is To Be Sick.

Suffering For Love Is How I Have Learned Practically Everything I Know, Love Of Grandmother Up And On.

The Night Is A Skin Pulled Over The Head Of Day That The Day May Be In Torment.

To Think Is To Be Sick.

When One Wants To Become Cognizant Of The Color And The Texture Of The Soil, One Does Not Get A Ladder; One Gets A Shovel. When One Wants To Get Into Touch With The Texture Of The Universal Mind, One Does Not Go To Boston; One Goes To The Bowery.

For Most People, Life Is Nasty, Brutish, And Short; For Me, It Has Simply Been Nasty And Brutish.