They Say That Nothing Is Wasted: Either

When A Writer Is Swayed With His Fame And His Fortune, You Can Float Him Down The River With The Turds.

I Broke That Town In Half Like A Wooden Match.

Great Art Is Horseshit, Buy Tacos.

Beware Those Quick To Praise For They Need Praise In Return Beware Those Who Are Quick To Censor They Are Afraid Of What They Do Not Know Beware Those Who Seek Constant Crowds For They Are Nothing Alone Beware The Average Man The Average Woman Beware Their Love, Their Love Is Average Seeks Average

I Can't Think Of Any Poet-recluses Outside Of One Dead Jeffers. [robinson Jeffers] The Rest Of Them Want To Slobber Over Each Other And Hug Each Other. It Appears To Me That I Am The Last Of The Poet-recluses.