Our Heaven Is Their Hell, Said God.

I Could End This With A Moral, As If This Were A Fable About Animals, Though No Fables Are Really About Animals.

Poetry Is Where The Language Is Renewed.

How Old Do You Have To Get Before Wisdom Descends Like A Plastic Bag Over Your Head And You Learn To Keep Your Big Mouth Shut? Maybe Never. Maybe You Get More Frivolous With Age.

If He Wants To Be An Asshole, It's A Free Country. Millions Before Him Have Made The Same Life Choice.

I Am Not A Saint Or A Cripple, I Am Not A Wound; Now I Will See Whether I Am A Coward.