With Out Some Kind Of God, Man

Each Way Means Loneliness -- And Communion.

Macavity, Macavity, There's No One Like Macavity, There Never Was A Cat Of Such Deceitfulness And Sauvity.

Art Never Improves, But... The Material Of Art Is Never Quite The Same.

Humankind Can't Stand Too Much Reality.

All Time Is Eternal, Moving Inexorably Toward An End Which We Believe Is A Result Of Our Actions, But Over Which Our Control Is Mere Illusion.