Salome Had But Seven Veils; The Artist

The Feminists Have A Legitimate Grievance. But So Does Everyone Else.

It May Be True That My Desk Here Is Really 'nothing But' A Transient Eddy Of Electrons In The Flux Of Universal Process. Nevertheless, I Find That It Continues To Support My Feet, My Revolver, And My Cigars All Day Long. What Happens When My Back Is Turned I Don't Know. Or Much Care. That's No Concern Of Mine.

Girls, Like Flowers, Bloom But Once. But Once Is Enough.

My Notion Of A Great Novel Is Something Like A Five-hundred-page Shaggy-dog Story, With Only The Punch Line Omitted.

It Is Not An Easy Thing To Inflate A Dog.