I never want to think or write about the topic again when I'm finished with it.

The leftist drive for control is insatiable.

I don't think it's entirely paranoid to suspect that one day, you won't be able to so much as question the primary tenets of anti-racism without going to jail.

I'm alive, happier than I've ever been, and I'm doing exactly what I want.

A primary flaw in my psychology is that I'll give people a hundred yards' worth of rope with which to hang themselves, but once they reach that hundred-yard line, I strangle them to death with it.

I didn't see much besides Melbourne and a quick trip down to the Twelve Apostles, but all the Aussies I encountered were good-spirited and had a fine sense of humor.

The idea that the reader is important enough to me that I'd tailor my words to either please or offend them always seems amusingly alien to me.