Only In Chaos Are We Conceivable.

We Interpret Life At Moments Of The Deepest Desperation.

As Time Goes By, As Time Goes By, The Whip-crack Of The Years, The Precipice Of Illusions, The Ravine That Swallows Up All Human Endeavour Except The Struggle To Survive.

There's No Place On Earth With More Dumb Girls Per Square Foot Than A College In California.

Literature Is The Product Of A Strange Rain Of Blood, Sweat, Semen, And Tears.

The Truth Is We Never Stop Being Children, Terrible Children Covered In Sores And Knotty Veins And Tumors And Age Spots, But Ultimately Children, In Other Words We Never Stop Clinging To Life Because We Are Life.