Every Golden Age Is As Much A

Writers, Unlike Most People, Tell Their Best Lies When They Are Alone.

When Some Drunken Fool Asked If She Was A Lesbian, She Would Say, 'in Everything But Sexual Preference.

Only Love Could Pick A Nested Pair Of Steel Bramah Locks.

Nothing That Had Ever Happened To Him, Not The Shooting Of Oyster, Or The Piteous Muttering Expiration Of John Wesley Shannenhouse, Or The Death Of His Father, Or Internment Of His Mother And Grandfather, Not Even The Drowning Of His Beloved Brother, Had Ever Broken His Heart Quite As Terribly As The Realization, When He Was Halfway To The Rimed Zinc Hatch Of The German Station, That He Was Hauling A Corpse Behind Him

People Keep Saying, 'oh, You're Getting All These Great Reviews, That Must Make You Really Happy.' I Guess It Does, But Mostly It's Just A Relief.