The Dionysian is no picnic.

Men chase by night those they will not greet by day.

Despite crime's omnipresence, things work in society, because biology compels it. Order eventually restores itself, by psychic equilibrium.

Every month, it is woman's fate to face the abyss of time and being, the abyss which is herself.

Though men may be deep, mentally they are slow.

The greatest honor that can be paid to the work of art, on its pedestal of ritual display, is to describe it with sensory completeness. We need a science of description. Criticism is ceremonial revivification.

Every man must define his identity against his mother. If he does not, he just falls back into her and is swallowed up.