Solitude is un-American.

Without the gods, how would I sing?' I asked. With your own voice,' he said.

Growing up female in America. What a liability! You grew up with your ears full of cosmetic ads, love songs, advice columns, whoreoscopes, Hollywood gossip, and moral dilemmas on the level of TV soap operas. What litanies the advertisers of the good life chanted at you! What curious catechisms!

Someday every woman will have orgasms- like every family has color TV- and we can all get on with the business of life.

A wet dream in the mind of New York.

Isn't that the problem? That women have been swindled for centuries into substituting adornment for love, fashion (as it were) for passion?

People in the land of LaLa look like expensive wax fruit. And they work hard to achieve that look.