As I criss-cross the city hurrying, I feel always the unchanging cold beneath the pavement.
The privacy of reading frees us to entertain the alien.
Truth-telling frightens me. Lying confuses me.
Intellectuals have opinions on subjects they just heard about five minutes ago.
Now defined as art, the totem has lost cult, taboo, and custom.
As a youth, I sought out decadence; as an elder, I try to avoid decay.