Maybe Any Action Becomes Cowardly Once You

In Moments Of Despair, We Look On Ourselves Lead-enly As Objects; We See Ourselves, Our Lives, As Someone Else Might See Them And May Even Be Driven To Kill Ourselves If The Separation, The "knowledge," Seems Sufficiently Final.

It [socialism] Was A Kind Of Political Hockey Played By Big, Gaunt, Dyspeptic Girls In Pants.

Most People Did Not Care To Be Taught What They Did Not Already Know; It Made Them Feel Ignorant.

Labor Is Work That Leaves No Trace Behind It When It Is Finished.

The Things Of This World Reveal Their Essential Absurdity When They Are Put In The Venetian Context. In The Unreal Realm Of The Canals, As In A Swiftian Lilliput, The Real World, With Its Contrivances, Appears As A Vast Folly.