What’s Any Artist, But The Dregs Of

We're Comic. We're All Comics. We Live In A Comic Time. And The Worse It Gets The More Comic We Are.

What’s Any Artist, But The Dregs Of His Work?

How Real Is Any Of The Past, Being Every Moment Revalued To Make The Present Possible.

He Was Doing Missionary Work. But From The Outset He Had Little Success In Convincing His Charges Of Their Responsibility For A Sin Committed At The Beginning Of Creation, One Which, As They Understood It, They Were Ready And Capable (indeed, They Carried Charms To Assure It) Of Duplicating Themselves. He Did No Better Convincing Them That A Man Had Died On A Tree To Save Them All: An Act Which One Old Indian, If Gwyon Had Translated Correctly, Regarded As "rank Presumption".

Say A Word, Say A Thousand To Me On The Telephone And I Shall Choose The Wrong One To Cling To As Though You Had Said It After Long Deliberation When Only I Provoked It From You, I Will Cling To It From Among A Thousand, To Be Provoked And Hurl It Back With Something I Mean No More Than You Meant That, Something For You To Cling To And Retreat Clinging To.