The Blood Of A Redheaded Woman Is

Was There Any Human Urge More Pitiful-or More Intense- Than Wanting Another Chance At Something?

Workers Of The World Awaken. Break Your Chains, Demand Your Rights. All The Wealth You Make Is Taken, By Exploiting Parasites. Shall You Kneel In Deep Submission From Your Cradle To Your Grave? Is The Height Of Your Ambition To Be A Good And Willing Slave?

That Was One Thing You Found Out When You Were Stoned, Or Wasted, Or Feverish: That The World Was Always Turning And That Only A Healthy Mind Could Block Out The Sickening Whirl Of It.

Fantasy Was Always Only A Reality Waiting To Be Switched On.

I Remind Myself That No One Day Of Writing Matters All That Much. A Story Is Built Somewhat Like A Stalactite - One Little Drip Of Mud And Grit At A Time.