If Life Is Misery, Why Do We

I Kept Having Dreams All Night. I Thought They Were Touching Me With Their Fingers. But Dreams Don't Have Fingers, They Have Fists, So It Must Have Been Scorpions.

Coincidence Obeys No Laws And If It Does We Don't Know What They Are. Coincidence, If You'll Permit Me The Simile, Is Like The Manifestation Of God At Every Moment On Our Planet. A Senseless God Making Senseless Gestures At His Senseless Creatures. In That Hurricane, In That Osseous Implosion, We Find Communion.

Literature Is The Product Of A Strange Rain Of Blood, Sweat, Semen, And Tears.

We All Have To Die A Bit Every Now And Then And Usually It's So Gradual That We End Up More Alive Than Ever. Infinitely Old And Infinitely Alive.

I Decided To Tell The Truth Even If It Meant Being Pointed At.