Any chance beats no chance.

The only way I can possibly heat my so-called mind up to working temperature is to imagine I'm talking to someone I admire.

And here is our girl, looking-- If possible, worse than before. (You thought this was Cinderella transistorized?)

Being, I imagine, must be very simple. It is Becoming which is so messy and which I am all for.

All I can say is that laughter is my music; I would deeply suspect an argument which hadn't laughter.

You know, exams are like war -- the birth rate of ideas goes up. Anything to keep from this dismal regimen, says poor mind, and hopefully tosses up another distraction.

Any chance beats no chance.