When I see gurgling retarded children (that's God's doing, by the way, not mine) happily styling their hair with their own stinking mards, I think of Adam in those pre-marital days. I know he's your great-to-the-nth-degree-granddad and all - but I'm afraid he was rather an imbecile.

The message is clear: By all means become an abomination -- but only while unhinged by grief or wrath.

Peace is purchased in the currency of loss.

Nicotine and alcohol embraced in my system like long-parted siblings, grateful to me for reuniting them.

No artist knows everything... but since every artist knows more than he can tell, all art is lying by omission.

Just because life's meaningless doesn't mean we can't experience it meaningfully.

The flesh had infinity in it. I must know every inch by touch yet every inch renewed its mystery the instant my hand moved on. Delightful endless futility.