There Was A Young Lady Named Mae

All The Things You Can Talk About In Anyone's Work Are The Things That Are Least Important.

To Take My Work Seriously Would Be The Height Of Folly.

Only Art Means Anything.

If You're Doing Nonsense It Has To Be Rather Awful, Because There'd Be No Point.

Mr Earbrass Stands On The Terrace At Twilight. It Is Bleak; It Is Cold; And The Virtue Has Gone Out Of Everything. Words Drift Through His Mind: Anguish Turnips Conjunctions Illness Defeat String Parties No Parties Urns Desuetude Disaffection Claws Loss Trebizond Napkins Shame Stones Distance Fever Antipodes Mush Glaciers Incoherence Labels Miasma Amputation Tides Deceit Mourning Elsewards.