The ninety percent of human experience that does not fit into established narrative patterns falls into oblivion.

An event is not over until everyone is tired of talking about it.

Some crave grief like strong drink.

In New York, one must collapse to be indolent.

Avant-garde art jousts with propriety, but takes care never to unseat it.

Maxims are sharp-edged half-truths.

Melancholy is as seductive as Ecstasy.