We Already Have The Statistics For The

What Can You Say About A Guy Who Lets Himself Be Saddled With A Baby When He's Thirty-five And Losing His Hair? Love? Forget About That Till You're Past Seventy, And By Then The Parts Will Have Stopped Working Anyway.

An Empty Bus Hurtles Through The Starry Night Perhaps The Driver Is Singing And Happy Because He Sings.

...i Remain Restless And Dissatisfied; What I Knot With My Right Hand, I Undo With My Left, What My Left Hand Creates, My Right Fist Shatters

In Statistics, What Disappears Behind Rows Of Numbers Is Death.

Information Networks Straddle The World. Nothing Remains Concealed. But The Sheer Volume Of Information Dissolves The Information. We Are Unable To Take It All In.