There was a message written in pencil on the tiles by the roller towel. This was it: What is the purpose of life? Trout plundered his pockets for a pen or pencil. He had an answer to the question. But he had nothing to write with, not even a burnt match. So he left the question unanswered, but here is what he would have written, if he had found anything to write with: To be the eyes and ears and conscience of the Creator of the Universe, you fool.

A lover's a liar, To himself he lies, The truthful are loveless, Like oysters their eyes!

The highest treason in the USA is to say Americans are not loved, no matter where they are, no matter what they are doing there.

Man created the checkerboard; God created the karass.

I am a monopolar depressive descended from monopolar depressives. That's how come I write so good.

I apologize because of the terrible mess the planet is in. But it has always been a mess. There have never been any 'Good Old Days,' there have just been days. And as I say to my grandchildren, 'Don't look at me. I just got here myself.'

People should practice an art in order to make their souls grow and not to make money or become famous. Paint a picture. Write.