Not All The Ravages Caused By Our

One Never Took The Time To Savour The Details; One Said: Another Day, But Always With The Hidden Knowledge That Each Day Was Unique And Fatal, That There Never Would Be A Return, Another Time.

Everyone Is Isolated From Everyone Else. The Concept Of Society Is Like A Cushion To Protect Us From The Knowledge Of That Isolation. A Fiction That Serves As An Anesthetic.

How Fragile We Are Under The Sheltering Sky. Behind The Sheltering Sky Is A Vast Dark Universe, And We're Just So Small.

It's Very Hard To Write About That Which Is Always Beautiful And Pleasant And Good. You Don't Get Anywhere With It. There's No Friction In It. There's No Trouble. You Have To Have Trouble. Somebody's Got To Get In Trouble, Or No One Wants To Read It.

Illness Reduces Man To His Basic State: A Cloaca In Which The Chemical Processes Continue. The Meaningless Hegemony Of The Involuntary.