We Look Too Much To Museums. The

Life Is To Be Lived, Not Controlled, And Humanity Is Won By Continuing To Play In Face Of Certain Defeat.

What And How Much Had I Lost By Trying To Do Only What Was Expected Of Me Instead Of What I Myself Had Wished To Do?

The Blues Is An Impulse To Keep The Painful Details And Episodes Of A Brutal Experience Alive In One's Aching Consciousness, To Finger Its Jagged Grain, And To Transcend It, Not By The Consolation Of Philosophy But By Squeezing From It A Near-tragic, Near-comic Lyricism. As A Form, The Blues Is An Autobiographical Chronicle Of Personal Catastrophe Expressed Lyrically.

I Am An Invisible Man. I Am A Man Of Substance, Of Flesh And Bone, Fiber And Liquids - And I Might Even Be Said To Possess A Mind. I Am Invisible, Understand, Simply Because People Refuse To See Me.

The Antidote To Hubris, To Overweening Pride, Is Irony, That Capacity To Discover And Systematize Ideas.