Goldstein, You'd Be A Pretty Good Boy

Alimony Is The Curse Of The Writing Class.

The Sickness Of Our Times For Me Has Been Just This Damn Thing That Everything Has Been Getting Smaller And Smaller And Less And Less Important, That The Romantic Spirit Has Dried Up, That There Is No Shame Today. We're All Getting So Mean And Small And Petty And Ridiculous, And We All Live Under The Threat Of Extermination.

The Irish Are The Only Men Who Know How To Cry For The Dirty Polluted Blood Of All The World.

In Such Places As Greenwich Village, A Menage-a-trois Was Completed- The Bohemian And The Juvenile Delinquent Came Face-to-face With The Negro, And The Hipster Was A Fact In American Life.

Los Angeles Is A Constellation Of Plastic.