I Don't Like To See All My

Falsehood Is A Critical Element In Fiction. Part Of The Thrill Of Being Told A Story Is The Chance Of Being Hoodwinked. . .the Telling Of Lies Is A Sort Of Sleight Of Hand That Displays Our Deepest Feelings About Life.

I've Been Homesick For Countries I've Never Been, And Longed To Be Where I Couldn't Be.

How Can We Describe The Most Exalted Experience Of Our Physical Lives [sex], As If-jack, Wrench, Hubcap, And Nuts-we Were Describing The Changing Of A Flat Tire?

Art Is The Triumph Over Chaos.

My Veins Are Filled, Once A Week With A Neapolitan Carpet Cleaner Distilled From The Adriatic And I Am As Bald As An Egg. However I Still Get Around And Am Mean To Cats.