The Passion For Fact In A Raw

All Dramatic Realism Is Somewhat Sadistic; An Audience Is Persuaded To Watch Something That Makes It Uncomfortable And From Which No Relief Is Offered - No Laughter, No Tears, No Purgation.

In Moments Of Despair, We Look On Ourselves Lead-enly As Objects; We See Ourselves, Our Lives, As Someone Else Might See Them And May Even Be Driven To Kill Ourselves If The Separation, The "knowledge," Seems Sufficiently Final.

Maybe Any Action Becomes Cowardly Once You Stop To Reason About It.

Every Word She Writes Is A Lie, Including "and" And "the."

The Things Of This World Reveal Their Essential Absurdity When They Are Put In The Venetian Context. In The Unreal Realm Of The Canals, As In A Swiftian Lilliput, The Real World, With Its Contrivances, Appears As A Vast Folly.