It Is Possible, However, That The Artist

Americans Are The Nicest, Most Generous, And Sentimental People On Earth. Yet Americans Have Killed More Unborn Children Than Any Nation In History.

Before, I Wandered As A Diversion. Now I Wander Seriously And Sit And Read As A Diversion.

I Like To Eat Crawfish And Drink Beer. That's Despair?

The Mystery Lies In The Here And Now. The Mystery Is: What Is One To Do With Oneself? As You Get Older You Begin To Realize The Trick Time Is Playing, And That Unless You Do Something About It, The Passage Of Time Is Nothing But The Encroachment Of The Horrible Banality Of The Past On The Pure Future. The Past Devours The Future Like A Tape Recorder, Converting Pure Possibility Into Banality. The Present Is The Tape Head, The Mouth Of Time. Then Where Is The Mystery And Why Bother Kicking Through The Ashes? Because There Is A Clue In The Past.

Have You Noticed That Only In Time Of Illness Or Disaster Or Death Are People Real? I Remember At The Time Of The Wreck-- People Were So Kind And Helpful And Solid. Everyone Pretended That Our Lives Until That Moment Had Been Every Bit As Real As The Moment Itself And That The Future Must Be Real Too, When The Truth Was That Our Reality Had Been Purchased Only By Lyell's Death. In Another Hour Or So We Had All Faded Out Again And Gone Our Dim Ways.