Without Sarcasm I Sink Into Chaos.

I See In The Act Of Throwing The Dice And Of Risking The Affirmation Of Some Intuitively Felt Truth, However Uncertain, My Whole Reason For Living.

I Know Each Conversation With A Psychiatrist In The Morning Made Me Want To Hang Myself Because I Knew I Could Not Strangle Him.

No One Has Ever Written, Painted, Sculpted, Modeled, Built, Or Invented Except Literally To Get Out Of Hell.

I Call For Actors Burning At The Stakes, Laughing At The Flames.

I Prefer The People Who Eat Off The Bare Earth The Delirium From Which They Were Born.