I Am Quite Prehistoric, Absolutely Prehistoric.

I'm Not Asking You To Describe The Rain Falling The Night The Archangel Arrived; I'm Demanding That You Get Me Wet. Make Up Your Mind, Mr. Writer, And For Once In Your Life Be The Flower That Smells Rather Than The Chronicler Of The Aroma. There's Not Much Pleasure In Writing What You Live. The Challenge Is To Live What You Write.

Writing Is A Marvelous Adventure And Very Labor-intensive: Those Words Run Away And Try To Escape. They Are Very Difficult To Capture.

To Narrate Is To Give Oneself: It Seems Obvious That Literature, As An Effort To Communicate Fully, Will Continue To Be Blocked So Long As Misery And Illiteracy Exist, And So Long As The Possessors Of Power Continue To Carry On With Impunity Their Policy Of Collective Imbecilization Through The Mass Media.

I Can't Sleep. There Is A Woman Stuck Between My Eyelids. I Would Tell Her To Get Out If I Could. But There Is A Woman Stuck In My Throat

A Pretty Move, For The Love Of God.