Sociological prose can tell you everything, but it can't point out the grief.

I want nothing from You but to see You.

It is surely a great calamity for a human being to have no obsessions.

Every part of you that you do not love will regress and become hostile towards you.

Every modern male has, lying at the bottom of his psyche, a large, primitive being covered with hair down to his feet. Making contact with this Wild Man is the step the Eighties male or the Nineties male has yet to take. That bucketing-out process has yet to begin in our contemporary culture.

As the saying goes, you might as well be yourself; everyone else is taken.

Two birds fly past. They are needed somewhere.