To Lie, Of Course, Is To Engender

One Handles Truths Like Dynamite. Literature Is One Vast Hypocrisy, A Giant Deception, Treachery. All Writers Have Concealed More Than They Revealed.

I Have No Brakes On...analysis Is For Those Who Are Paralyzed By Life.

This Great Handsomeness I Took Into Myself Later When He Desired Me, But I Took It As One Breathes Air, Or Swallows A Snowflake, Or Yields To The Sun.

Pain Is Something To Master, Not To Wallow In.

My Ideas Usually Come Not At My Desk Writing But In The Midst Of Living.