The evaporation of 4 million who believe in this crap would leave the world a better place.

The evaporation of 4 million who believe in this crap would leave the world a better place.

It is the job of the market to turn the base material of our emotions into gold.

How did you fall in love with New Orleans? At once, madly. Looking back, sometimes I think it was predestined.

The time has come for writers to become inaccessible again. The reason is not some kind of 'mystique' that makes people curious (though it helps), but the fact that no real writers ever lay down anything real in public-they work in solitude, they think hard, and their thoughts are rarely nice or 'friendly.'

These are the poems of a traveler and a lover who feels both the terror of time passing and the consolation of eternity. From such tension spring lovely poetic objects, ready for intelligent use.

The worst part about zombies raging unchecked is the slow paralysis that they induce in people who aren't quite zombies yet. The rest of us un-zombies turn our heads, hoping the ghouls will just go away.