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

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.

Did you ever look into the personalities of male cooks, Army, logging camp, etc.? They're all supposed to be crazy, incomprehensible, contemptible. And angry. The act of feeding adult males seems to have strange personality effects.

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

good is too often allied with vulnerability and evil with power.

Passing in any crowd are secret people whose hidden response to beauty is the desire to tear it into bleeding meat.

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