I'm A Very Friendly Socialist.

I'll Tell You, I've Never Particularly Been A Trek Person. I Feel About Trek The Way One Feels About Known, Vaguely Liked, But Rather Distant Members Of One's Family.

We Should Have Just Killed Him, That's A Lesson, Don't Get Creative With Revenge

I Think There's Something Quite Interesting About The Almost Tragic Quality Of A Lot Of Overwrought Prose, Because It Has A Much More Self-conscious Awareness Of Its Own Failure To Touch The Real.

The Summer Stretched Out The Daylight As If On A Rack. Each Moment Was Drawn Out Until Its Anatomy Collapsed. Time Broke Down. The Day Progressed In An Endless Sequence Of Dead Moments.

Any Moment Called Now Is Always Full Of Possibles.