The Familiar Changes As We Cling To

Sexual Attraction Keeps Throwing Self-interest Off Course.

My Mind Is Led Astray By Every Faint Rustle.

Sex Is Not Imaginary, But It Is Not Quite Real Either.

After Voltaire: Envy Is Chained To The Portico Of The Temple Of Glory And Can Neither Enter Nor Leave.

The Psychiatrist's Office: The Only Place I Can Be Sure My Story Will Be Treated As Sad, But Interesting.