Hunger Allows No Choice.

All Pity Is Self-pity.

Most People Enjoy The Sight Of Their Own Handwriting As They Enjoy The Smell Of Their Own Farts.

A Poet Can Write About A Man Slaying A Dragon, But Not About A Man Pushing A Button That Releases A Bomb.

Cathedrals, Luxury Liners Laden With Souls, Holding To The East Their Hulls Of Stone.

With The Farming Of A Verse Make A Vineyard Of The Curse