When I Die I Won't Go To

We're Forever Teetering On The Brink Of The Unknowable, And Trying To Understand What Can't Be Understood.

It’s A Poor Atom Blaster That Won’t Point Both Ways.

Rejection Slips, Or Form Letters, However Tactfully Phrased, Are Lacerations Of The Soul, If Not Quite Inventions Of The Devil-but There Is No Way Around Them.

I Made Up My Mind Long Ago To Follow One Cardinal Rule In All My Writing — To Be Clear.

There Never Can Be A Man So Lost As One Who Is Lost In The Vast And Intricate Corridors Of His Own Lonely Mind, Where None May Reach And None May Save.