The distrust of wit is the beginning of tyranny.

James Joyce buried himself in his great work. _Finnegan's Wake_ is his monument and his tombstone. A dead end.

Life is hard? True - but let's love it anyhow, though it breaks every bone in our bodies.

Belief in the supernatural reflects a failure of the imagination.

Homosexuality, like androgyny, might be an instinctive racial response to overpopulation, crowding, and stress. Both flourish when empire reaches its apogee.

The sexual revolution transformed the American West: Now even cowboys can get laid.

It may be true that my desk here is really 'nothing but' a transient eddy of electrons in the flux of universal process. Nevertheless, I find that it continues to support my feet, my revolver, and my cigars all day long. What happens when my back is turned I don't know. Or much care. That's no concern of mine.