Mother went out again tonight, looking like a courtesan.

I avoid that bleak first hour of the working day during which my still sluggish senses and body make every chore a penance. I find that in arriving later, the work which I do perform is of a much higher quality.

Oh, New Orleans is such freedom.

Mothers got a hard road to travel, believe me.

I refuse to "look up." Optimism nauseates me. It is perverse. Since man's fall, his proper position in the universe has been one of misery.

you can always tell employees of the government by the total vacancy which occupies the space where most other people have faces.

Apparently I lack some particular perversion which today's employer is seeking.