...the Only Way To Prove You Are

Disease-carrying Thoughts Swarm And Multiply In The Dark And Twisted Labyrinths Of Our Minds, And All That Is Needed Is A Mob And A Good Political Slogan For The Epidemic To Be Spread Once Again, With A Burst Of Automatic Weapons Or A Mushroom Cloud.

I Sat Day After Day In My Little Room, Waiting For Inspiration To Visit Me, Trying To Invent A Pseudonym That Would Express, In A Combination Of Noble And Striking Sounds, Our Dream Of Artistic Achievement, A Pen Name Grand Enough To Compensate For My Own Feeling Of Insecurity And Helplessness At The Idea Of Everything My Mother Expected From Me.

A Writer's Subconscious Is One Of The Filthiest Places There Are: As A Matter Of Fact, You Can Find The Whole World There.

Men Sometimes Die Much Earlier Than They Are Burried.

When A War Is Won, It's The Losers, Not The Winners, Who Are Liberated.